An Outdated Map
by crimsonheart01
Summary: At the end of the war, too many people died. Unable to cope and ashamed of herself and her decisions, Hermione flees. It's been an entire year, and now she's back for the memorial but things couldn't ever be easy. It turns out she can see dead people. One person in particular. Fred Weasley.
1. Monday

**A/N: I'm back! With another story. Branching out into the HP Verse. Be gentle. Updates will be weekly on Tuesdays.**

**This is dedicated to chaosmieu and axelwolf8109. Together we all agree that we were robbed of this beautiful couple. FREMIONE SHOULD HAVE BEEN CANON!**

**Playlist:** _Different Names for the Same Things - Death Cab for Cutie_

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns Harry Potter, I'm just here putting my spin on things

* * *

_"Alone on a train aimlessly wander  
__Outdated map crumpled in my pocket  
__But I didn't care where I was going"  
__Different Names for the Same Thing – Death Cab for Cutie_

She paused at the front door of the shop. Her hand hovered above the handle. The sun was setting behind her, indicating that closing time was near. She peered in through the window, a phantom smile growing on her lips. It was as lively as ever. However, the scene caused her heart to hurt. Reminding her that she'd abandoned everyone; ran away. She was still nervous about coming back. She wasn't sure if they'd be happy about her abrupt reappearance. Not after disappearing for almost a year. No one knew she was back, nor where she went. She cut off contact with everyone. She doubted they'd be happy to see her. She'd deserted everyone in one of the hardest times of their lives. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to quell any negative thoughts. She swallowed and pushed down on the handle, shoving the door open.

Raucous chatter filled her senses and she let out a startled laugh. It was fantastic to see the shop doing so well. She slipped passed the threshold, finding a calm corner to inhabit while taking in the entire scene before her. A genuine grin formed on her mouth as she looked up overhead. There was confetti floating leisurely in the chaos, while a swarm of paper planes flew through the air, dive-bombing those they were intended for. There were dozens of new products lining their shelves but feeling nostalgic she kept her eye on the original inventory. Keeping to the sidelines, she shuffled through the crowd, keeping her head down for fear of being recognized. She found her way over to the first official invention the twins came up with. She reached out and knicked a Skiving Snackbox off the shelf, turning it over to read the contents. She ran her index finger along with the descriptions written out. Fainting fancies had always been her favourite. They always had the perfect dramatic flair when attempting to ditch classes. She was loathed to admit it back then, but they really were clever when it came to magic.

"Ah, I see you've picked up one of our oldest and most popular gags." A familiar voice boomed from over her shoulder, "I hear Nosebleed Nougats are all the rage these days."

She started at the voice, unprepared for the sudden reunion. She froze for a few seconds, unsure of how to approach him but hearing the genuine joy in his voice negated her worries. A quiet chuckle fell out of her, settling into the air between them. She pointed to the fancies and turned around. George's eyes popped open wide as he recognized her.

She gave him a weak smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears, "I've always had a soft spot for these ones if I were, to be honest."

He nodded, "Well you always were one to cause a scene."

His sarcasm was well-received, causing both of them to break into comfortable laughter. Both remembering their antics from our school days, and her vehemence against all of it. Once the shock and laughter wore off, they stood in sombre silence. In a nervous gesture, George tucked his hair behind his only ear before opening his arms to her. She shuffled forward, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"Hermione." He murmured, squeezing her tight into him.

She squeezed back, clutching the snack box tighter in her hands, "George."

They stayed in their embrace for a few long moments until they heard someone calling his name. They broke apart and he ruffled the top of her head in a brotherly gesture. They turned to see Lee Jordan waving him over.

"Stay a while?" George asked, "Angie and Lee are around here somewhere, and you haven't met little Freddie, have you?"

She balked hearing George using his late brother's name so casually. Startled by hearing the common endearing nickname they all shared for his brother. She realized it wasn't actually about the Fred she knew, but for his namesake. She knew that he and Angie had named their firstborn after his late brother, but she hadn't been expecting to hear the light way his name rolled off George's tongue. She clamped her mouth shut and nodded, agreeing to stick around. George laced his fingers through her free hand and squeezed them.

"We missed you." He intoned.

She gave him a sad smile, "I missed you too."

He backed away, into the frays of the crowd and shouted, "Snackbox is on the house. Maybe give these newbies a little demonstration?"

She watched George's back retreat into the chaos. She blinked, taking a moment to breathe. She hadn't been expecting a warm reception. Especially not from him. He'd been hit the hardest out of all the Weasley's. Losing his twin brother. It gave her reason to believe that maybe – _maybe_, everyone would forgive her. Welcome her back into the family again. Her thoughts strayed to Harry, and then to Ron. Her two closest friends. The ones who she would've dropped anything for. Shaking off the start of her negative thoughts, she shook her head lightly and glanced around her.

She fell back allowing herself to be succumbed by the crowd. Everyone was racing towards the front, waving their items in the air, shouting and calling. More people began milling in through the front entrance, all hoping to cash out before closing. She shimmied her way through the throngs to the back-left corner, where they housed the Pygmy Puffs. She reached into their enclosure and was met with excited chirping. A lime green smaller one hopped up onto her hand and she carried him closer to herself, patting him gently.

She could still remember when the twins accidentally bred one of the little buggers.

_It was back in an abandoned corridor they made into a workshop at Hogwarts. The two of them, including Lee, were all milling about coming down from the high of a quick Quidditch match between friends. Fred rummaged through a box, excited to show off their newest experiment. As he reached into the box, he let out a girlish yelp, calling for his twin. Lee snorted and began to rib him about the noise but that ended quickly when we saw the mischievous gleam in George's gaze. Lee furrowed his brow, asking George what was going on. Fred gave a particularly evil chuckle and then scooped his hands forward, presenting what turned out to be the very first, neon pink, Puff. Turns out they were just trying to come up with a way to change the colour on Puffskeins and accidentally left two in the same box together. Mixed together with the magic, and dyes, they ended up with an extra poofy, extra cuddly, extra tiny, Pygmy Puff. It was then that she had happened upon the make ship shop, prepared to hand out a dozen detentions when she noticed what Fred was holding. In absolute shock at the new species they'd created, she let out a gasp and the three wizards discovered her hovering in the entryway. Using their wands, they swore her to secrecy, until they could figure out how to market them. It was one of the few times she let their antics slide in light of their genius._

She tucked her finger under the chin of the Puff in her hand and it let out a content squeak. She wrinkled her nose up at it, nuzzling it lightly. These little guys were cute – that much was true. What most people didn't realize, was that they were also sinister little devils. They loved to play tricks, or downright disappear and laugh from wherever they hid. It was disconcerting when it happened in the middle of the night. She couldn't recall how many times Ginny, herself, and their dorm mates had been woken up by tiny chirping laughter, taunting them from the dark corners of their rooms. These little things being loosed amongst the Gryffindor commons was just another reason for her to yell at the twins for being reckless. A constant occurrence between herself and them. She let out a shiver at the memory and dipped her hand back into the enclosure, letting the little guy bounce back down towards his friends.

A loud bang was let off near the registers and she snapped her gaze up, seeing that someone had accidentally set off their new purchase of fireworks. She chuckled at the mayhem created. Without much thought, she half turned, reaching down to grab her snack box. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the tall form of a man standing too close and narrowly missed slamming him as she turned. Shifting to the left, she managed to miss bumping him.

"I'm so sorry." She apologized, "I didn't mean to throw you off balance."

The man answered, in a voice, she never thought she'd hear again, "You can see me?"

She snapped her gaze up and found herself staring at an exact replica of Fred Weasley. There were some slight differences, like how his hair was a lot longer than the last time she'd seen him, and the scars that adorned his arms, and cheeks were new. She swallowed. This couldn't be happening. She knew coming back was a horrible idea, but she hadn't expected to start hallucinating. Apparently, she wasn't ready to face her demons. Not yet at least. Her mind began to spin, bringing her nightmares back to life. He died. She watched it happen. A wall crushed him. This wasn't real.

"You're dead." She whispered.

He smirked, "You can see me."

She continued shaking her head. Why was she suddenly seeing illusions of the former twin? She squeezed her eyes shut, raising her hands to cover her face and began to shake her head slowly. Trying to dispel the image of Fred. He wasn't real. It was her imagination. Her mind playing tricks. She needed to dislodge this manifestation from her mind. She repeated the mantra _this isn't real_ in her head. After a solid minute when her heartbeat slowed to a regular pace, she decided all was well. The near panic attack narrowly avoided.

Listening to her surroundings first, noting that there wasn't anything indicating that his presence was still there. When she gathered the courage to open her eyes again, she found herself staring straight into the brown eyes of one Frederick Gideon Weasley. Tremors rolled through her body, the stress of seeing him in front of her taking full effect. She bit down on her lower lip; this was why she ran away. She knew being around everyone was going to make her go insane. The post-traumatic stress from the war was too much for her psyche and she couldn't cope.

Her only option was to become a hermit. A shell of her former self. Living among muggles, forgetting everything about magic and what it meant to her. What it took away from her. Realizing that this was a major mistake, she spun on her heel and took off towards the front door. Knocking shoulders with many as she made her escape. The echoes of those telling her to 'watch it' mixed with her name being called, anything to slow her down. She ignored everyone and everything behind her. She needed air. She needed to breathe. The walls were closing in around her. Everything was getting too close.

The shouting grew louder in her wake, but she kept moving. In her panic, she wasn't sure whether she could differentiate between George and his deceased twin. If she was indeed seeing things. Seeing him as a hallucination, that wasn't something she wanted anyone to find out. They'd lock her up in St. Mungos without a second thought. Reaching for the door, she yanked it open and spilled out into the busy street.

Everything sped past causing her vision to blur. Overwhelmed by her emotions a migraine began to build between her eyes. The pressure of her arrival pushing down around her. She swallowed hard, spinning in a circle to gain her bearings. Where was she? Which way was home? The noise coming from around her clouded her thoughts, disabling her ability to think properly. Fear rolled down her spine, a shiver working its way through her entire body. She spun around endlessly for a familiar beacon, something to ground her.

She delved deep down into her consciousness, searching for logic. An explanation. Maybe, maybe he was a ghost. That was plausible. How was it that they occurred again? Nearly Headless Nick explained it once. They had to leave something behind. Something of theirs needed to be left behind after death that way they would be tethered to life after death as an impression of their former self. If that was the case than he'd be confined to where he'd left a part of himself behind. However, if he was indeed a ghost, then everyone else would be able to see him. Hadn't he just been surprised that she'd seen him? As if he'd been here all along and no one else had noticed him.

"Hermione?" His voice came from over her shoulder.

Her eyes widened, and she stopped, turning to see him. There he was, her own personal hell, standing in the middle of the busy walkway. Directly in front of her.

"This can't be happening." She whispered to herself.

She stared at him for a long moment. His smile faltered ever so slightly, worried by her reaction but content to stay there. She pinched the bridge of her nose. This was her punishment. This was her mind retaliating for leaving and then coming back. It was all far too much. Choosing to react in the only way she saw fit, she backed away and broke into a run. He shouted her name as she ran. His voice fading into the bustle of the traffic the further she went. Using the steady beat of her feet hitting the pavement, she kept going. She wouldn't stop. Not until she was far enough away that his projection couldn't follow. She shouldered her way through the busy streets of Diagon Alley until she found herself speeding through the Leaky Cauldron and bursting out into the quiet muggle alleyway.

Taking a deep breath, she continued forward, this time at a brisk walk. She refused to turn around. She couldn't stand the thought of what could be following her. She didn't want to know if she could still see him. She left him in the past. Behind her. He needed to stay there. Exhaling, she shuffled along through the crowds, eventually finding herself tucked away in a corner of the public library. Sitting in an alcove, on the windowsill, she had a novel opened in her lap, but found herself mesmerized by the constant flow of life around her. People coming and going. Cheery hellos, and tearful goodbyes.

She leaned her head against the window, peering out at the traffic in the streets. It was mundane. Typical. Everyday traffic. All moving along, regardless of the state that she was in. Time wasn't going to stop for her. Nor would it turn around and start over. The revelation struck her. Life was going to carry on, with or without her. Being stuck in the past wasn't going to help anyone. She licked her lips, tucking a few stray curls behind her ears. She came back to make amends. Six months in hiding had been long enough.

Standing back up, she straightened out her rumpled shirt and folded closed the book she' been perusing. Taking her time, she strolled through the stacks of the library, imaging herself back at Hogwarts. Where everything had been easy – or easier. Nothing had ever been easy for them. When she closed her eyes, she could hear the constant bustle of the school, see the candles floating in the air to add extra light. A small smile built on her face as she remembered. Something she stopped letting herself do. Gathering her courage, she dropped the book onto the return cart and left the library to make her way back to Wizarding London.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

The walk back wasn't nearly as long as she expected. In no time at all she found herself standing in front doors of the Leaky Cauldron. She reached out a hesitant hand. Stepping back through that door meant stepping back into that world. The one she gave so much too. The one that took so much away. Steeling her nerves, grasping at the last strings of her Gryffindor courage, she pushed against the splintered door and into the musky air of the tavern. Tom looked up from the bar and gave her his signature misshaped smile. She swallowed and inclined her head in greeting to him. His eyes flickered towards the stairs and she gave him a brief smile.

She made her way to the stairs and down the hall of rooms. There was a charmed bell hanging above her designated door and she silently thanked Tom. She hadn't made any sleeping arrangements before showing up today. She vaguely hoped she could stay with the Weasley's but she hadn't let herself dwell further on that decision, worried about the implications. She definitely hadn't thought she'd hallucinate and start seeing Fred. She was thankful for Tom's discretion, and for knowing she needed a room. She touched the handle of her door, and the bell chimed as it registered her magical signature before disappearing.

She slipped through the door and immediately sat down on the bed. She stared around at the darkened room. Sighing, she pulled out her beaded bag and reached far into the depths of it. She searched for a few moments before locating her wand. As she gripped the familiar tool in her hand feeling a tremor as her magic responded. She'd forgotten what it felt like to wield it. With a quick swish through the air, she lit all the lanterns and began unpacking her effects.

She'd hoped it would've taken her longer to get settled but alas, she didn't have much to put away. She glanced around the room, knowing that she needed to make amends for the afternoon. Grabbing her favourite jumper, and tucking her wand into her back pocket, she made for the door. She slipped through the barrier into Diagon Alley and took her time as she made her way back to the joke shop. She knew the shop would be long closed by now, but it was still early enough in the evening that she wouldn't be disturbing anyone's sleep.

She reached the front door and rapped against the glass. She waited a solid minute before considering that she should send up a quick Patronus to announce her presence. As she reached back to begin the spell, she saw a pop of red hair behind the counter. She let out a relieved sigh. Realizing that she didn't have the correct headspace to try and perform the complicated charm right now. George made his way over to the door, paused when he saw her, a small furrow in his brow. He nodded once before reaching forward and pulling the door inwards.

He opened his mouth to greet her, but she shook her head and interrupted him.

"I'm sorry," She apologized, offering a placating smile, "It was a little overwhelming this afternoon."

George softened at her admittance and ushered her in, locking the door behind her, "Angie's just upstairs putting on a pot. Will you stay for a cuppa?"

She felt her smile grow in genuine happiness and nodded, "I'd love one."


	2. Tuesday

**A/N: It's Tuesday! Here's another update! A****gain, a big thanks to chaosmieu and axelwolf8109. Leave me a comment/review to let me know what you think! **

**Playlist: **_Into the Blue - Kylie Minogue_

**Disclaimer: JKR owns HP**

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_"But I'm still here holding on too tight  
__To everything that I left behind  
__I don't care if the world is mine  
__'Cause this is all I know"  
__Into the Blue – Kylie Minogue_

Grabbing her shoulder bag, she stood up and dropped a few notes to pay her bill. She slipped out from the small booth and exited the bistro. She opted to spend her morning in muggle London. She knew that people would recognize her too easily in Diagon Alley and she wasn't fully prepared to handle the inevitable onslaught of questions. She knew there would come a time where she'd have to own up to everything, but today was not that day.

Strolling down the street and ducking into the familiar alleyway, she found herself lost in the familiar patterns of old-time lost. Her feet knowing exactly which way to go without any conscious effort on her part. It was comforting, that no matter how long she'd been gone, there were some things that wouldn't ever change. Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered giving Tom a smile before taking the stairs up to her room.

Reaching her door, she picked up a rolled-up Daily Prophet just to the side. Pushing her door open with her shoulder, she flicked through the first few pages of the paper, while dropping her satchel down onto the bed. She kicked her shoes off and pulled her wand out, swishing it in the direction of the windows to open them.

Reclining back in the small armchair across from the fireplace, she scanned the Prophet, noting the large two pages spread of the memorial coming up. It was the first anniversary of the ending of the war, and there was major speculation about the turn out for the event. Feeling a numbing sensation starting to creep over her shoulders, she quickly pressed on, vaguely retaining the information within the news.

She sighed as she reached the housing section. She hadn't fully formed the thought, but there was the idea that maybe she could come back for real. Find somewhere to live. Somewhere close. She hadn't figured out a plan past Friday. She hadn't decided whether she'd be leaving again or not.

Folding the Prophet in half, she tossed it onto the side table next to her. She sighed, leaning her head back when there was a tentative knock on her door. She turned her head, brows furrowed, as she wondered who could possibly be knocking. George and Angie were the only people who knew she was back. Checking her wristwatch, she knew it couldn't be either of them. Not at this time in the morning, it was too busy in the shop for them to take a jaunt out.

It was possible it was Tom, or even a stray confusing her door with someone else's. She didn't want to appear to be rude, but she wasn't in a proper state to be receiving any guests. If it was important, they could leave a message with the innkeeper. Or send her an owl. Resolving to ignore the unwanted visitor, she closed her eyes, taking a moment to herself.

The second round of knocking sounded at her door and she creased her brow in irritation. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she stood, preparing to dismiss whoever was on the other side of the door. She could see the shadow of whoever it was under the door. The person shifted, obviously hearing her movement and the next thing she knew she was frozen at the voice.

"Hermione," The person called through the door, "It's Harry."

She stopped, her heart pounding. _He promised_. George promised her that he wouldn't tell anyone. Her breathing hitched, terrified that she was about to be bombarded with Harry's temper. She felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes. _How mad could he actually be? _ She scoffed at herself, putting herself in his place and knowing exactly how furious her best friend likely was. She left him. After everything they'd gone through, she disappeared into the night, without a word. There was a light thud against the door, as she assumed Harry laid his hand against it.

"Hermione?" His voice gravelled, thick with emotion, "I know you're in there." There was a slight pause before he spoke again, "Please open the door."

A lump grew in her throat as she heard his broken-up tone. It was obvious he was battling through emotions as strong as hers. It wasn't right for her to leave him stranded, not after so long. Especially not after him discovering her here; back. Holding back the tears welling, she stumbled over her feet to the door. Taking a breath, she timidly pried the door open, peering through the opening. She watched as he raised his eyes up to her, letting out a breath of relief. She swallowed and pulled the door open fully, standing directly in front of her oldest friend.

He gave her an uncertain smile before opening his arms up and wrapping her in a tight embrace. She fell against him, revelling in the comfort that it held. She squeezed her eyes shut, tightening her arms around his middle. She felt as the tears she'd been holding in began to slowly seep out.

"Hermione," He whispered.

One of his hands lifted to the back of her head, cradling it. It was a brotherly gesture and one that she hadn't realized she craved. She spent the last year without any human touch. Her body quivered at the overload to her senses. After a few long moments, they pulled apart. She reached up and wiped at her eyes. Harry sported a depressed smile. Happy to see her, but sad that she had left in the first place.

She backed into her room, gesturing for him to follow. He nodded and walked through, gazing around at the bare space. It barely looked lived in and for a moment she felt embarrassed at how empty it was. A direct reflection of herself. She let the door fall closed on its own as she moved towards the bed and sat down on the edge. Harry followed and took up the spot next to her.

They sat in silence, neither of them knowing where to start, or what to say. Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The movement called Hermione's attention and she noticed the few scratches strewn across the lenses. Her heart tugged at the deja-vu she was experiencing. Lifting her wand, Harry glanced over at her, a question in his expression.

"_Occulus reparo_," She spoke, watching as the spell mended his glasses.

Harry's eyes widened and he pulled the glasses off to inspect them as an incredulous laugh burst out of him. She smiled at the sound, before dissolving into a fit of nervous laughter herself. Laughter filled the room, rising into the rafters, as the energy between them levelled out. Bringing them both back to a comfortable point. They fell back onto her bed, clutching their sides, happy to share their time together again.

As their mirth subsided, Hermione slipped her hand around Harry's, lacing their fingers together.

"I missed you," She admitted.

He grinned, turning to face her and nodded in agreement. They both turned away, staring up at the ceiling. She knew there was a lot to be discussed, and that emotion was bound to run high, but she genuinely felt happy. Reuniting with her best friend had lifted a heavy weight off her chest. She felt like she could breathe a little bit easier now.

"Why George?" Harry asked, drawing her from her thoughts.

She rolled her head to face him, seeing that he was watching her for her reaction.

She shook her head and shrugged, "I don't really know. I wasn't seeking him out or anything. I just happened to find myself walking towards the shop as soon as I stepped through the barrier. It was the first place to set off a feeling of familiarity. That stupid joke shop. That's what called to me. _Me_." She wiped at her eyes with a chuckle, "It was exactly the same. As if no time had passed. I couldn't find it in myself to turn away. One thing led to another and George was the first person to recognize me."

Harry smiled, "I understand."

"Where did you go?" He whispered; the green of his eyes vibrant with the emotion they held.

She shrugged, her breathing hitched, "It was too much. We lost so many people. Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks," She paused, swallowing hard and then whispered, "Fred."

A flicker of knowing flashed through his eyes. A confirmation that Hermione was determined to ignore. Thankfully, Harry chose not to say anything. If he had thoughts on her reaction, he was quick to discount them. Choosing not to put a blemish on their reunion. It was too soon to make any grand statements. Instead of touching on the small moment that passed between them, he pushed on, asking her a dreaded question.

"Your parents?" His voice wavered, hope filling his face.

She sniffled, shaking her head. He deflated, immediately tossing an arm around her shoulder and tugging her towards him.

"I'm so sorry," He apologized, wishing there was more he could've done for her.

She let the sorrow fall from her, finally able to let go of all the pent-up guilt she held for the situation. It was her fault she didn't have her parents back. She'd made a decision to save their lives, but at what cost? The risk, a chance they'd never gain their memories back. It was the tipping point for her. The final reason causing her to flee. She couldn't cope with the fact that they'd never remember her. Lost to them for the rest of time. Harry held her tight, understanding the agony she was experiencing. Likely better than anyone else. When the tears finally dried up, she stayed in place. Breathing. Just Breathing.

After a while, she pulled out from his embrace. Pulling her legs up onto the bed, she crossed them and sat facing him. He turned to match her stance, leaning against one of the bedposts. In the back of her mind, she could still feel the numbing sensation of her anxiety start to seep back in. Being back in this place was wearing thin on her coping. She knew she'd be forced to face her fears. Her nightmares, but she didn't need to have a breakdown here. Not when things were starting to look up. Focus on the positive. That's all she needed to do. Swallowing with the attempt to desensitize herself, she changed the subject immediately.

"So," She clapped her hands together, "How's Ginny?"

A bright grin grew on Harry's mouth, a glint of joy in his eyes. Pressing her elbows into her knees, she held her head up in her palms and listened as he began retelling the past year, focusing majorly on his love affair with the youngest Weasley sibling.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

The white light was assaulting his every sense. He struggled to open his eyes, catching flashes of blurred fluorescent lights. His body jerked and jolted from all directions. Bumping along as if he were on a trolley. Everything was on fire. Agony flared throughout his veins. He groaned, turning his head, hoping to ease his pain. There was a dull ache throbbing in his head as if he'd been hit by a bludger. There was a sickening squeak coming from below him, consistent and irritating. Scrunching his face up in discomfort, he concentrated on sitting up, to no avail. His legs and arms were filled with led. Deadweight. With a final jolt, his entire being came to a stop. Something about the situation struck a chord in his subconscious and fear surged through him. _Not again_. His adrenaline spiked and he thrashed around. Anything to stop what was to come. He could hear the muffled mumbling around him, causing a deeper-rooted terror to erupt. He opened his mouth to cry out, but nothing but a hoarse gurgle came out. A low snicker rolled out next to him and he flinched back. Without any warning, an excruciating prick marred his forearm. His teeth gnashed together as he shied away from the twinge on his limb. He felt as his eyes rolled back in his head. A haze overcoming him. All the pain suddenly disappeared, and he found himself Thrown into a limbo – floating in stasis – he felt a cooling sensation cover his body. A reluctant sigh escaped him. His eye continuing to roll behind their lids, his head lolling to the side.

_Hermione_. A name that jarred a deep-seated response within him. It was the last coherent thought he had before succumbing to the darkness.


	3. Wednesday

**A/N: Another Tuesday, another chapter!**** Leave me a comment/review to let me know what you think!**

**TRIGGER WARNING: PTSD. I'm putting a TW on this chapter because it addresses PTSD and goes a bit into detail about an episode. It's minor, but I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable. **

**Playlist: **_Tonight - Magic Man_

**Disclaimer: JKR owns HP**

* * *

_"We're trying our best to keep our monsters inside  
__Nobody wants to be alone  
__But tonight we're all believers  
__And I feel alright with all of my heart"  
__Tonight – Magic Man_

Feeling better than she had in longer than she cared to admit, she decided to venture back into Diagon Alley that afternoon. She still wasn't ready to face the many familiar faces she was bound to have to come face-to-face with soon but thankfully there were still places in the public alley that she could hide away in.

True to London fashion, the weather was predictably cold and rainy that day. Tucking her curls under the hood of her sweater, she stepped out onto the cobblestones. She marvelled at all the magical umbrellas floating around her. It didn't matter that she spent the good part of her formative years surrounded by magic, she was still in awe of how casual it was used in little instances.

Wizarding kind used magic for the most mundane things. Things that didn't necessarily call for its use. However, it was fascinating to see how they functioned with everyday tasks and magic. Mesmerized, she stood off to the side, leaning against a wall and observed all the comings and goings of those around her.

Droplets of water hit the modified shield charms. Bags and cauldrons floated along behind their masters, waiting to be filled or unloaded at home, while books and supplies were vanished back to their personal store cupboards or shrunk down and slipped into a pocket. Shoes glided over puddles, not an ounce of wetness on them. An impervious charm at work.

She smiled to herself. This is what she missed the most. The regular ins and outs. She loved learning everything she could, but short of having to prove herself worthy, she enjoyed revelling in the smallest conveniences that magic brought to her.

Stepping back out into the throng of shoppers, she kept a low profile, making her way towards her favourite bookshop. Flourish & Blotts. She glanced up at the wooden sign, swaying with the wind and nodded. This would be the perfect place to get lost for a time.

Upon entering the shop, she was hit with a wall of the lingering smell of parchment. One of her all-time favourite scents. One that she carried in from her muggle childhood. A book was a book. Magical or not. They all had a similar musky scent. The power behind the words written oozing into life. She slipped down the first aisle to her left, not caring to look at the subjects held there.

Dropping her hood, she perused the shelves. A grin formed on her lips as she ran a finger along the spines of the many volumes she passed. This was a place where she'd always feel at home. Aimlessly wandering throughout the store, she continued passing by the patrons without a second glance. Eventually, she found herself in an alcove that housed the first book she ever read after finding out who she really was. Stretching onto her tiptoes, she plucked the newest edition off the shelf.

Flipping open the front cover, she turned over to where there was an empty armchair waiting for her. She perched on the edge of the seat, glossing over the unchanged sections of Hogwarts, a history. She sighed when she reached the section about the reparations. Wiping a hand across the page, she felt a shiver run down her spine. Closing her eyes she gently closed the book. She swallowed and stood, keeping the book tucked under her arm as she made her way to the front.

She may have not been able to read the newest edition right here, right now, but there would come a day when she would have that strength back. The strength to tackle all things related to those fateful days. _That year._

Lost to herself, she dropped a few coins down to pay for her purchase. After accepting her change, she smiled and bade a silent farewell to the bookkeeper of the shop. When they nodded back at her, she noticed that the cashier wasn't a witch or wizard but house elf instead. She paused for a second, memories and thoughts stuttering to life within her.

The little elf bowed their head in recognition of who she was, and her heart rate sped up. Choosing not to dwell on the progressive change she was witnessing, for fear of more people seeing who she was, she turned abruptly and sped towards the front entrance. Glancing over her shoulder to check that the elf hadn't alerted everyone to her presence, she wasn't looking and ended up slamming into the hard frame of another person. As she stumbled back, the person reached out and steadied her with quick reflexes.

Off-kilter, she began to apologize until she looked up and the words died in her throat. A tall, heavily freckled, no longer gangly, ginger stared at her in shock. Her lungs seized, no air in or out. This was not a person she was equipped to handle while still trying to get her bearings back. Without letting herself get caught up in any conversation, she used his pause to her advantage. Tugging her arm away from his grip, she skated around him, through the door and into the street.

She stood a few paces to the left of the door to the shop. The cool wind from the weather outside jump-started her breathing and she gasped in a noisy breath. Nearly keeling over from the tension of running into Ron, had her desperately trying to catch her breath. The door next to her whipped open, and she righted herself immediately.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice rippled through the street.

She watched as he frantically searched the crowd growing in front of them. She desperately wanted to tell him to shut up. He was drawing too much attention. Attention she didn't want. Finally, he turned and laid eyes on her again. He must have seen her panic because he tilted his head in confusion.

He approached her as if approaching a wild animal about to bolt, "Hermione, is that really you?"

She wanted to scoff. The question was ridiculous. Of course, it was her. _Who else would it be? Her doppelgänger?!_ Not that he even knew what that might be. Some things never did change. He was always doubting what was right in front of him. Not believing his own eyes, nor his own smarts. Irritation at his incredulousness crept into her veins and she stared up at him.

She opened her mouth to speak but was quieted when another voice rang out behind him, "Ron? Ron, where did you go?"

From the steps behind Ron, Lavender waddled into view. Hermione gulped, taking in the sight of the woman now in front of her. She was still as pretty as she was in school, but there were three major differences. A huge ring on her finger, four distinct scares marring her cheek and the pregnant belly she was sporting.

Lavender didn't spare much of a glance at Hermione and laid a hand on Ron's forearm, "Why did you run out of the shop so suddenly?"

Ron turned to look down at his wife, while Hermione watched on. Her mouth dried as she saw the expression of unadulterated love pass through Ron's eyes. It was never a look they shared with each other. Nor would they ever. They both knew the implications of their kiss. It was a heat of the moment. Both fearing they wouldn't make it to the next morning.

As Ron explained to his wife what was happening, there was a flickering in the background. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed the beginning of a figure forming. Turning her gaze over Ron and Lavender's shoulders, only to find another ginger dancing into existence. Blinking rapidly, Hermione felt her entire mind begin to dissolve. This couldn't be happening. Not all at once.

Fred spun around, suddenly fully there, and spotted her immediately. He found her staring directly at him – _not through him_ – and met her with a full-frontal smile. She began shaking her head. It was all too much. Seeing Ron's older, deceased brother, manifesting directly behind him. It was too much. Her brain was bound to explode.

Her brain short-circuited as she became bombarded by two redheads. One real, one imaginary. Her psyche playing more tricks on her. Both men called out to her, asking her something, but she wasn't able to comprehend what it was they were trying to get her to hear.

Turning on her heel, she ran. She didn't care how much attention she called for this. She just needed to getaway. The voices behind her began to mellow, but one remained constant. The one she hoped would disappear sooner rather than later. She burst through the doors of the Leaky and shot off in the direction of her room.

A tingling began at the base of her spin and she let out a dry sob. She reached her door, fumbling to get it open. She wrapped both hands around the knob and shook it violently. It took her several seconds before she remembered she needed her wand to unlock the wards. In jerky movements, she pulled out her wand and waved it, using it as a key to get in.

Finally getting through, she fell across the threshold and wrapped her arms around herself. The onset of an episode was there, and she needed to find a way to keep it at bay. She needed him to leave. Go away. He was the cause of this.

"Hey!" Fred called out, standing on the inside of her room, bewildered at her state.

She tilted her head, her mouth turning down into a tremored pout as tears pooled in her eyes, "Please, leave me alone. _Please_."

She begged, on the verge of getting down on her knees. Fred stood still, worry shadowing his features.

"Go away." She cried, the tears cascading down her cheeks.

She began to rock back and forth, not wanting to succumb to the horrors of her own memories. She wanted him to go away. She didn't want to remember. She was better off with him dead. Not here, standing in front of her. Taunting her with all the things she couldn't have.

Fred held out a hand, stuttered into silence. She jerked away from him, slamming into one of the bedposts. She winced, grabbing her shoulder, hoping to squeeze away the sting. A light breeze from outside blew through the window, jostling the shutter.

She whipped around as the sound of the wood banging against the stone wall sent her flying back into battle. Her vision tunnelled and she found herself back in the castle. The walls around her morphing into the crumbling rubble of her second home. Curses from all directions began soaring just out of reach. Screaming with abandon, she dived behind the bed. Curling into a ball, she pulled her knees up to her chin and used her hands to cower behind. She began to weep.

_This wasn't happening. Not again. She wasn't at war. It was over. She was safe. _

Shaking, she whispered the same sentiments over and over, willing herself to calm down. Willing the war to subside. To bring her back to her reality.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

Fred watched as Hermione curled in towards herself, hiding away from the world and his heart broke. He approached her quietly, not knowing how she'd react to another unexpected noise. He knelt beside her, wishing for nothing but a way to comfort her.

He reached out a hand, knowing full well he'd never make contact. He watched his hand drifted right through her. He pulled it back and stared at the translucent limb. There had to be some way to help her. He didn't understand what was happening. He didn't know why she was hiding, or what had caused it. All he knew was that she was scared and mostly of him.

He thought for a moment that maybe leaving for help was a good idea, but he couldn't leave her here like this. She was broken. Not to mention, no one could see him except for her. He couldn't run and get proper help. He lifted his hands in exasperation and dropped them. Wracking his brain for a solution. Anything that would bring her back.

Unsure what he could actually do to help, Fred did the only thing that came to mind. He began to hum the first tune he thought of. He rolled his eyes at himself, and for a moment cursed his mother's favourite singer. He began as quietly as possible, not wanting to startle her. His voice cracked on the second time through, so he cleared his throat and then began whispering the lyrics. He closed his eyes, singing offkey.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

When the pounding in her ears subsided, her body sagged against her limbs. She let out a long, hitched sigh. Rubbing her hands up and over her forehead, she squeezed her eyes closed in an effort to dispel her nightmare back to her subconscious. Blowing out a huff of breath, she released her hands from within her hair and lifted her head. Blinking a few extra times, she stared ahead.

"_What's in my cauldron full of hot, strong love, will make your life complete_," Fred sang as she watched.

She licked her lips and tightened her hold around her knees. She squeezed, a little too hard, to ensure that she really was seeing him there. That she was awake, and this wasn't another form of a nightmare. Realizing that thinking him out of existence wasn't going to work, she settled to let him just be. For now. She didn't have the energy to fight. Not after her latest episode.

Resting her chin on the tops of her hands, she watched the ginger with muted fascination. She had to admit, her imagination was good. He was lifelike. Almost identical to how she remembered him. There were only small differences. The ones she noticed the first time he appeared. She let him finish through the song without any interruptions.

He must have registered the change in the atmosphere because he opened his eyes and met hers without any hesitation. He bit down on his lower lip, letting the last of his humming peter out. They watched each other for a long moment. As if sensing she wasn't ready to talk about what had happened, he sat across from her.

He gave her a half shrug, one hand rubbing the back of his neck and a shy smile, "Didn't mean to annoy you. It was the only song I could think of on the fly."

She felt the twitch in her lips, as they attempted to turn up into a smile. She wasn't ready to admit it, but the song was oddly comforting to her. Getting through the panic and calming her in a way she hadn't expected.

She nodded, "Thank you."

Neither of them said anything further. Hermione taking that time to steel herself and her emotions. If she was going to survive being back in wizarding London, she was going to have to put up much stronger blockades. She sighed and leaned back against the wood frame of her bed. It wouldn't be long before Ron came looking for her again.

She cringed as she thought about it. He wasn't known for his finesse. She knew he was coming from a good place. She left here still friends with him after all. No hard feelings between them. She hadn't expected him to move on that fast. Nor with Lavender of all people. She scrunched up her nose at that thought. It wasn't fair of her to pass judgement on the woman, especially not when she was basing it on her prejudice from being a teenager in lust.

It had been such a long time since she'd been held by anyone, never mind kissed. A kiss that wasn't in any way romantic. Frantic, desperate, but not something from deep love. Feeling as the tension in her body subsided, Hermione let go of her legs, stretching them out in front of her. She noticed Fred watching her intently, trying to play it off by being distracted by the frays in her carpet.

"I kissed Ron," She admitted out loud, revealing to him what was in her current thoughts.

She watched as his ears and the side of his neck flushed. For a brief second, she would've said that he looked jealous, but she shook her head at the sheer absurdity of that thought. _What could Fred be jealous of?_ He was only a figment of her imagination anyways. None of his thoughts or expressions were real. Fred let out a scoff before scrunching his face up in mock disgust.

"Gross Hermione," He admonished, "I don't need to be hearing about my younger brother's sexual exploits."

Hermione widened her eyes, letting out a sound of indignation.

"There were no _sexual_ exploits." She whispered furiously.

Fred burst into laughter at her reaction and fell back. It startled her and she jerked back, but the loud sound was more comforting than jarring. His laugh sounded exactly as she remembered it. Loud, obnoxious, and with the most subtle hint of mischievousness. She stared at him as he threw his head back. The happiness emanating from him spread warmth through her. One that she hadn't felt in a long time. She shivered as a sliver of emptiness in her began to fill. Emotion thrummed through her and she felt the elation at that feeling. She closed her eyes, a smile on her face and breathed in.

She listened as his laughter gradually faded, leaving the room lighter than it was a few moments before. She opened her eyes again and gazed over at the illusion of an old opponent, almost friend, of hers.

"I'm going crazy, aren't I?" She asked. It was hypothetical and they both knew it. She figured they both already knew the answer. What she wasn't expecting was his response. Something she couldn't fathom ever creating in her own subconscious.

Fred was reclined back on the opposite wall. He lifted his arms, folding them behind his head, and shrugged, "I couldn't say." He chuckled before tilting his head to look over at her, "I'm not really one to judge what's crazy or not. I've spent the last year trying to get someone to see me. You're the first person to notice I'm still here."


	4. Thursday

**A/N: I'm 2 Tuesdays late! I'm sorry my lovelies! Life got in the way and I've been incredibly busy. Here's another chapter for you! **

**Playlist: **_I made an actual playlist **playlist** for this fic! It's on Spotify. You can find me and the playlist by searching crimsonheart01 and the title of the playlist is An Outdated Map. _

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns HP

* * *

_"Is it just our bodies?  
Are we both losing our minds?  
Is the only reason you're holding me tonight  
'Cause we're scared to be lonely?"_

_Scared to Be Lonely (feat. Dua Lipa) – Martin Garrix_

Waking up that morning, Hermione felt heavy. She stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks she saw. She was vaguely aware of her evening from the flashes of the memories that sat in her mind's eye. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she was disappointed. She'd hoped that coming back would help her put everything to rest. Help her finally move on. Her mind – her strongest asset – was letting her down.

Feeling a prickling of tears at the corner of her eyes, she squeezed them shut and took a deep breath in. Refusing to let herself wallow, she rolled out of bed. With determined steps, she made her way into the small adjoining bathroom. Reaching out, she tapped her wand against the faucet in the shower and watched the water spurt to life. Distracting herself, she began her recovery ritual. She began listing the elements in the periodic table.

Undressing and hopping into the shower, she upped the temperature to near scalding and revelled in the sting on her skin. The pain reminded her that she could still feel. That she wasn't as dead inside as she felt. Without any precursor, her tears flowed in hot waves down her cheeks, melding into the water from the tap. She bowed her head forward, letting the water fall. Using her forearms, she leaned forward against the tiles and stayed there. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on the sounds around her. The constant flow of the water. The gurgling of the drain. The swish of hair as it swayed.

She had no concept of time while she was in there. All she knew was that she'd been standing there long enough for the temperature to drop down to freezing. As a rolling shiver ran down her spine, she shook it off. Reaching blindly past the curtain for her wand, she located it and waved it with a flourish to put a stop to the downpour.

With a sigh, she flipped her hair back, twisting it around her fist and wringing out the excess liquid. Summoning a towel, she wrapped it around her body and took a step to stand in front of the mirror.

"Oi!" Fred's voice exploded from behind her, "Warn a bloke before you decide to walk around half-naked."

She whipped around to see the translucent version of the ginger covering his eyes and a distinct red colour deepening around the tips of his ears. She felt her tongue curl back behind her teeth, her retort ready to fire but something about the way he angled his head away stopped her. He seemed genuinely embarrassed for intruding on her privacy. He may not have expressed it properly, but he hadn't meant to offend her.

She sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead to collect the droplets resting there. Closing her eyes for a quick second, she let out a breath.

"Shite!" She swore quietly to herself.

She caught the movement as Fred's mouth dropped open, having obviously heard her.

"Did _the_ Hermione Granger just cuss?" He asked.

Forgetting that she was only clad in a towel, he dropped his hand and stared at her with amused shock. His gaping mouth turned up into a mischievous smirk as he processed that, yes, she had indeed cussed in front of him. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, revelling in the secret he now had of her. Cursing wasn't something she partook in during school. Even during the war, she refrained as much as she could.

"Sweet, studious Hermione," He waved his hands around as if he was announcing the development to the world, "Can and will cuss. You just have to be patient enough to wait for it."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh come off it!"

She waved a hand at him in dismissal and he burst into laughter. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. Everything about him radiating happiness. She gulped, startled at how inviting he seemed. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms. Her eyes roved over his likeness, noting the scars that weren't there when he was alive.

It pained her to think about what had happened to him. How – if he survived – he'd be covered in the scars that he appeared to have in this version of him. Even his hair had grown several inches longer. It reminded her of her fifth year. The year of the toad. She shivered at the reminder of that vile woman. Her gaze wavered as was thrown back into her memories.

They fought a lot that year. Her first year as a Prefect and his last year at school. With a penchant to follow the rules and bent on proving herself to anyone and everyone, she spent too much time in yelling at him. There were moments when she wished she could turn back time. Choose a different course for them. Yell a bit less, let a few things go. Maybe even tell him how she admired his cleverness. How she wished he would use his smarts for something more than tricks and pranks.

Fred's laughter quieted bringing her back to the present. Her eyes inched up his arms, over his shoulders and up his neck until she was staring directly at him. He held her gaze, his expression open. Willing. She swallowed; the moment raw. The electricity between them buzzing in the air.

Somewhere, deep within her conscience, she felt the beginning of an inkling. A concept that gelled itself onto each and every synapse. There was a warmth that followed behind the idea. It was troubling how her mind reacted to the notion. He wasn't real, but everything in her being challenged her on that aspect.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the entire concept. Spinning around, she gripped at the edge of the sink. She was going barmy, but she couldn't deny the comfort he brought her. Maybe _this_ was her road to healing. Keeping close a memory of the friend she lost. A man she loved. Deeply. Wholeheartedly. As the realization manifested in her conscious brain, she clenched her teeth.

"Fred," She called, turning from the sink to face the door.

He met her eyes, a hesitant tilt to his head, "Yeah?"

"Stay." She swallowed, before whispering, "Please. I don't think I can do this alone."

She levelled her eyes with the floorboards, the heat of her fear and embarrassment rising from her chest into her cheeks. Admitting her defeat, her need for help wasn't something she was used too. She always had the answers. She always knew what to do. The fact that she was voicing this loss was a feat. She took a deep breath through her nose and steeled her nerves.

Defiant against herself, she raised her head and met Fred's face full on. She was met with his brilliant and shining smile. There was an unmistakable gleam in his eye, and her heart swelled. While she hadn't, and wouldn't, admit her true affections out loud, she could hold on to the fact that in this fleeting moment she loved him.

An involuntary gasp escaped from her at that four-letter word. The notion alien to her. She had a secret. Him. She loved him, and he was here. All things for her. No one else. Just her. She knew it was selfish, and maybe a tad foolish but she was going to hold on to his memory for as long as she could. In some ways, she was coming to terms with the fact that she wasn't fully cognizant, and she should probably do some research into this situation, but for now, with his smile directed at her – she didn't care. Insane or not. She had him.

"Of course," He winked, "Who else would give you all the unsolicited advice I have?"

She laughed, a grin on her mouth, thrilled with his answer.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

It was late afternoon when Harry finally got a chance to duck out of the office. He hated working so hard but knew it would pay off for himself and Ginny when they would need it the most. He patted the breast pocket on his Ministry robes, smiling at the thought of the picture there. He'd been carrying it around more than a week now. He was going to be a father!

Together, he and Ginny decided to keep it a secret until after the memorial. It had been too early to tell anyone when they first found out. Thankfully their secret wouldn't be one for much longer. After Saturday, everyone would be able to celebrate with him. He thought of the family he had, and now the one he was making. He chuckled to himself, chuffed with how things were going, despite what happened a year ago.

Dodging the many passerby's, Harry stepped out into the main alleyway, looking to grab a bite from the Leaky. It wasn't his usual spot to get lunch, but he was hoping for a chance to try and see Hermione again. He wanted to talk to her about the Ron encounter. He knew she was still adjusting and trying to deflect Ron's questions was hard enough. He'd rather if all three of them were in the know. They always did better when they were all communicating.

Glancing up, Harry spotted Hermione walking down the other side of the street, a smile on her face as she went. He gazed at his friend and enjoyed the fact that he could see her starting to return to her former self. Casting a glance both ways, he trotted across the way, coming up beside her.

"Stop it!" He heard her admonish no one.

He quirked an eyebrow but didn't think too much about it. He knew she had a habit of talking to herself. Especially around exam time. He grinned at the memory. He caught up to her and reached out to place a hand on her arm.

"Hermione," He greeted, waiting for her to turn and see him. He watched as she sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes.

"Fred!" She sighed in amusement, "People are going to think me insane snickering to myself in public. I don't need the constant commentary on wizarding fashion!"

Harry tilted his head, staring at her, "_Erm_, Hermione? It's me. Harry."

Hermione's eyes snapped up and a bright blush crossed her cheeks. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth.

"Oh Harry," She scrambled, "I was just – uhm – talking to myself. Running through my shopping list."

Harry tilted his head, not at all convinced.

"You alright?" He questioned Hermione.

He watched as she gulped, panic forming behind her eyes. Her gaze flicked all around, stopping to stare at one spot to her left consistently. He followed her line of sight but only saw the column of the building next to them.

"Hermione?" He prodded.

She balled her fists, taking in a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a tense moment, she popped her eyes open and met him with a fake smile.

"Of course, Harry," She placed a placating hand on his forearm, "Where were you headed? Want to walk with back to the Leaky?"

Harry looked down at her hand, and then back up at her face. In some ways, he was surprised at how easily he could read her. He could see her pleading with him not to ask any more questions. He could see her struggle underneath the perfect façade she was exhibiting. Lifting his free hand, he pushed his glasses up his nose before clasping it around her hand on his hand.

"Sure," He agreed, "I was actually on my way over there. I haven't had a chance to get any lunch yet today."

Together, they linked their arms and began walking in the direction of the tavern. He listened to Hermione as she gently chided him for not eating. All the while he noticed as her eyes flicked to her other side. It was if she saw someone standing there. Someone he couldn't see.

He let her lead him while his mind raced. What, or who could she be seeing. _Fred_. The theory shook him. She'd said his name when he approached her. He made a note to himself to check in with the staff at Mungo's to see if hallucinations were as bad in the wizarding world, as they were in the muggle. Worry for his friend filled him, but if he knew anything about Hermione, it was that she couldn't be forced into something she didn't want.

He'd come up with some kind of answers first. Speculation wasn't going to get him anywhere. He'd do some research. They reached the doors to the pub and Harry had a stray thought.

"Have you seen George lately?" He asked.

Hermione stopped and he saw the flash of pain that crossed her face. She hid it quickly and that triggered another thought in his mind. A thought he'd toyed with in the past. One that he tried not to dwell on. One that kept popping up now that Hermione was back. Especially after learning that she went to see George first. Of all people. There was only one other person who could give him the answers he was looking for.

She shook her head in response to his question and he left it alone. Mulling over his theories, he led them to an empty table and hailed Tom over.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

Harry stood out in the back alley, pounding on the door. He knew George was awake. In his haste to get answers, he resorted to muggle tendencies. It didn't matter how long he lived in the wizarding world, sometimes slamming his fist against a door was the better option than casting a spell to alert those to his presence.

Footsteps came thundering down the stairs and the door ripped open. George was wide-eyed and bewildered to find Harry Potter standing in the alley with a determined look on his face.

"Harry?" George asked, peering over his shoulders, "Everything alright mate?"

Harry brushed past the older Weasley brother and into the storeroom of the twins' shop. He huddled his shoulders up and blew warm breath into his hands before rubbing them together. Taking a minute to scan the room and check to make sure they were alone, he spun around.

"Did you know?" He interrogated the ginger. His tone accusing.

George arched an eyebrow, staring at the other man. He attempted to school his features but there was no use. Harry spotted the change immediately. He wasn't pushed into top Auror for his age group on fame alone. He knew what he was doing. George swallowed, stepping away from the door and letting it click shut behind him. He sighed and beckoned Harry to follow him through to where the back office was.

With a scowl on his face, Harry followed after. He was expecting an answer. Not silence and being trailed off. George slipped through the threshold into his office and popped open the bottom drawer of the desk. With a quick wave of his wand, he transfigured some pens into two clear tumblers and brandished a half-empty bottle of Ogden's finest. He pulled out the stopper and began pouring a generous amount into each glass before handing one to Harry.

With minor hesitation, Harry took the tumbler from his friend. George took a deep breath and knocked back the liquid, easily draining it. Harry cleared his throat before lifting his own drink to his mouth. Hiding the wince from the strong liquor, Harry sniffed and finished his drink. George dropped his glass down onto the desk before leaning against it.

Harry followed his lead and placed his emptied tumbler down.

"I always had my suspicions," George finally spoke, producing a long sigh. His hair fell into his eyes and he used one hand to run through and flip it back. "Fred never outright admitted anything. I think because of Ron, but there were little instances."

Harry drew in a breath before sinking down into the chair closest to him. He held his hand in his hands.

"What about Hermione?" He voiced the hypothetical question.

No one knew. Everyone assumed it was Ron she was infatuated with. Which, in some ways was true, but it must have ended earlier than any of them realized. Ron himself, never really figuring it out.

George shrugged, "She always could tell us apart. Even when no one else could."

It wasn't an answer, per se, but it proved the theory. Harry nodded. That was one thing no one could manage, even Mrs. Weasley got tripped up from time to time. Hermione never hesitated. She knew who was who. Harry bowed his head running his fingers through his windblown hair. _How had he never truly realized?_ He spent almost every waking moment with her and Ron. _How could he have been so blind?_

George shifted, pouring himself a second cup. This time not filling it as far as he did with his first. Harry watched him, a pang of guilt thrumming through him. He hadn't meant to pull up difficult memories. They'd all done their best to move on this past year. The wounds were healed, but only just. Anything could reopen them.

"Right before your sixth year," George reminisced, "When you lot came in while shopping for your school supplies. We spotted Hermione browsing the love potions stand. Fred took a chance and showed her the Daydream Charm we created. I can still see the hesitation in her expression before she admitted she thought they were amazing. Fred spent days beaming from that compliment." George chuckled to himself, a fond gleam in his eyes at the memory, "I wanted to strangle him. He wouldn't shut up." He straightened up and mimicked his late brother's voice, "_Did you know? Hermione thinks this is a brilliant piece of magic. Clever, is what she said._"

Harry let out a huff, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, "She hated admitting that you two were actual geniuses. It irritated her more than anything. Using your smarts to make _jokes_. Not for academia. There wasn't a higher disrespect in her mind."

Together, the two men laughed at their friends in their younger years. The laughter died out and a sombre silence grew in its absence. All that could be heard was the unconscious breathing between the two men.

"They missed their chance," Harry whispered, "All because of a war surrounded by me."

The pain and guilt hitting him full force. He ran his hands over his face, hiding behind them and squeezing his eyes shut. He let his head hang as the dread of his friends not having a chance to find their happy ending filled him. He raced over the events following the war and how reclusive Hermione became. How he didn't notice. Not until it was too late, and she was gone.

"C'mon mate," He said, "You can't blame yourself. Fred fought for the reasons the rest of us did. We all made the choice knowing full well what the consequences were. We all did what we had to do. We wanted a world free of hatred. You aren't a fault here."

Unable to allow Harry to blame himself for a war that he had no control over, George stepped over to him and clapped a hand down onto this shoulder. He tightened his grip on the younger man. Knowing that beyond anything – he was family. If they had to go back to war and do it all again, he would stand next to Harry. It didn't matter that he lost a part of himself. They came out on the right side. That's what mattered. The world was changing for the better. The losses they experienced were all for the greater good. They played an important part.

"Listen," George cleared his throat, "There's nothing to be done about it now. She's back and we'll do our best to comfort her. Give her time. She'll come back fully when she's ready. Until then, we'll just be here, waiting."

Harry nodded. He couldn't beat himself up over something he couldn't control. Hermione was back. He could focus on that. On her. Keep her here. With all of them. Their family.


	5. Friday

**A/N: It's Tuesday and I'm back! Thanks for sticking with me y'all. I love and appreciate you all! This one is Fred heavy. R&R! Let me know what you think!**

**Playlist: **_An Outdated Map playlist on Spotify! You can find it under my name: crimsonheart01_

**Disclaimer: JKR owns HP**

* * *

_"In a moment, I know that everything could change  
And I know that my life would never be the same  
You're the only one that's making sense to me  
When I close my eyes, you're the one, I see"_

_Thinking About You (feat. Ayah Marar) – Calvin Harris_

After the day they had, Fred wasn't surprised at how quickly Hermione fell asleep. Now that she was asleep, he found himself at odds. He didn't want to stick around just to stare at her while she was unconscious. The thought made him uncomfortable, so he made his way away from her bed to the window. He glanced back over his shoulder to see that she was completely out, her breathing steady.

With a sigh, he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and began to pace.

Gazing out at the night sky, he was struck by how much he missed the Burrow. He hadn't gone back. Not for a long time. When his consciousness first came back around, he immediately ran home. It was the first place that came to him. The most familiar. The one that held all his fondest memories.

He hadn't figured it out yet – but after running through his childhood home, effectively ignored, he realized there was something wrong. It wasn't until after he followed George to the family cemetery. The one that held all the Prewett plots. It was there that he saw his own name, engraved into a heavy stone. Marking the place where everyone had laid him to rest. It didn't matter that it was an empty coffin. It was a marker that they could visit. One that was specifically for him. A place that they could call his own.

With tears in his eyes, he remembered seeing his stone directly next to his twin uncles. The ones he and Georgie were named after. The ones who died in the first war. Their mother's older brothers. That was the defining moment. The one where he decided to never go back. That was the last day he ever tried to get anyone's attention at the Burrow. He couldn't handle the heartbreak that their heartbreak caused him. A veritable catch twenty-two.

Another sigh escaped his lungs as he stared up at the sky. It was clearer than he'd ever noticed for being in the city. He was used to clear skies, but that train of thought brought him back to the Burrow and there were emotions there he wasn't keen on revisiting. He blinked, attempting to clear his mind.

It was the time of year that Virgo was visible above them. He traced the constellation with his eyes. He smirked, recalling a few old traditions he was taught as a child. The Blacks weren't the only family that were trained to read the stars in depth. It was a common practice in most pureblood families. One that his mother tried to keep alive within her own family. He laughed to himself, unsure if the finer details stuck with any of them. Maybe Charlie – but he was the odd one out.

Hermione let out a small noise in her sleep, before rolling onto her side, calling Fred from his thoughts back to his reality. He turned slightly, catching the way her hair tumbled down over her shoulder and covered half her face. She looked peaceful as she slept. Not plagued by her memories of the war. Of her losses.

He swallowed, recalling the underlying reason for the bastard who started the whole thing. Proclaiming those like Hermione weren't deserving of their magic. Assuming that it was up to them to decide who could and couldn't be part of the wizarding community.

He knew his family had been labelled 'blood traitors' from the first war, but it never mattered. Not to him. He didn't even care about being a pureblood. It never seemed important. That was, it didn't until she showed up. This feisty first year, hell-bent on showing everyone and anyone how deserving she was. He was often put into a dilemma when speaking with her. Their childhoods were drastically different. When he and George found out about her explosive exit from Divination classes, they were in awe. It wasn't every day that witch turned their back on such an ancient art. It made him realize how much she didn't know and vice versa.

From that moment on, he'd made it a point to always ask her a new question. Try and do his own research on muggles. Make her feel more comfortable and welcomed. Another glance out the window and wondered how much she knew about the stars. How much information they held in them. What they could tell her. He wondered if his mother ever volunteered to teach her the 'old ways'. Open up long-lived traditions to the newcomer.

He wished he'd taken more initiative while he still could've. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her everything. There were so many little moments, seemingly insignificant, that he recalled as vividly today as when they happened. He smiled to himself and backed away from the corner by the window. Keeping his hands in his pockets, he passed through the locked door and through the Leaky.

He walked aimlessly through the alley, only one thing on his mind. Her. He never got a full explanation for why she left. It appeared that not everyone agreed on the terms of her disappearance. All he knew was that when he woke up, she was gone. He huffed a bitter laugh to himself. She was who he wanted to seek out. She would've been the one to be able to solve his dilemma. The one he was currently in.

_Dead_.

He hadn't really thought of that until she mentioned it. It never occurred to him that he could be dead and gone. Forever. He didn't feel dead. He felt alive, could feel the blood rushing through his veins. He could smell everything around him. The only problems he had were that he was invisible to everyone. A mere shadow to the world. He flickered in and out of existence, but he definitely wasn't dead.

He shook his head, no. That definitely wasn't it. He toyed with the idea of being a ghost, but that wasn't it either. He wasn't tethered to one place. He also couldn't recall leaving anything specifically behind. Wasn't that the golden rule for ghosts?

All he was certain of was that he was gone. Ceased to exist. For the last year, he'd come to terms with the predicament. He had no way of researching the issue himself so he resigned himself. Accepted his fate. Doomed to exist in the world in-between.

He'd been ecstatic when Hermione entered the shop earlier in the week. It wasn't only George who recognized her the second she showed up. He noticed – almost too quickly – that she was overwhelmed. It was in the way she held herself. As if she was trying to make herself as small as possible. When she eventually made her way over to where he'd been loitering, he leaned over to get a closer look and that's when it happened. When his whole world changed. She saw him and everything bloomed. All the possibilities. He'd been so caught up in the potential that he hadn't handled himself properly. He gave her a right fright when they discovered they could see each other.

Fred exhaled, fading through a wall and into the shop. If only he knew. Knew how troubled she'd become. He wished he'd been there for her. He wondered why no one tried to find her. He knew Harry spent months agonizing about her whereabouts but he never left to search. Neither did Ron. The way Ron skipped right along, marrying and getting on with Lavendar always bothered him but he wasn't in a position to pass judgement. No, not him. Not the man who'd been pining after his younger brother's girlfriend.

He climbed the stairs at the back of the shop and shifted through the door. George was sitting in the worn armchair across from the fireplace. He could hear a soft tinkering coming from the kitchen and assumed it was Angie making a cuppa. Fred sidled up next to his brother, staring into the fire.

"Today's been the best day I've had in a long time," He told his brother. He knew George couldn't hear him, but this routine he had of giving George the run down eased his heartache. "Hermione laughed today. Genuinely laughed. Not the fake one she's adopted. It was beautiful to see. She's coming back to herself."

Angie came into view, a tray of tea and biscuits floating alongside her. She had the tray set down on the small side table and leaned in to press a kiss to George's temple. She murmured something in his ear and Fred swallowed at their exchange.

He was beyond happy for Georgie. He found his love. His soulmate. It didn't however, help the hurt he felt inside him. That he wasted all that time in the background, wishing someone else's love was his. Blinking away the hurtful what-ifs, Fred continued to talk.

"She took me out to muggle London with her today. Showed me her favourite library." He laughed, "A library, I know. Some things never change." He quieted for a moment, staring off into the distance, before whispering, "Why did she leave, Georgie? Where did she go? Why didn't anyone go after her? Why didn't you try to find her?"

He looked up at his brother, to see him sipping his drink, "Do you know what happened to her? She's struggling. She doesn't sleep well. She's on the verge of a panic attack every moment, of every day. Is it just the aftereffects from the war? Or is there something more? Why won't anyone talk about her? Everything is hushed when her name is mentioned. She saw Ron the other day. It was strange. She ran away from him. What happened?" He closed his eyes and shook his head, "_What did I miss?_"

He knew asking the questions out loud wouldn't amount to anything. He realized George was ignorant of him standing there. Just beyond in the distance. So close but so far. No matter, he felt some ease drift over him as he voiced all the worries he had. He may not get the answers he wanted, but he got to put a voice to those irksome thoughts and it made things all the lighter.

Angie came back over, holding out the shop's leger for George. His brother smiled up at his wife, before setting his cup down and taking the book.

Ange turned to leave but stopped for a moment, "What did Harry want?"

George sighed, closing his eyes and then looking back up at Angie, "To discuss Fred."

"Fred?" She clarified, knowing full well they weren't talking about their son.

Fred's interested piqued. Why would Harry be asking about him after all this time? Was it a coincidence? He challenged himself not to get excited, but it was all for naught. This was new territory. Hermione was back and Harry was asking questions. Something was happening.

"He saw Hermione today. Said she seemed off." He gave Angie one of those looks. The kind that said, '_we already knew this, but what can we do_'.

Fred frowned at their exchange. He didn't agree with how they were treating that particular situation but what could he do? _Realistically_? His hands were tied and he hated it. He wished they would take her plights more seriously. She'd disappeared for the better half of a year. No – wait, she was gone longer if he did the math right. Why weren't they more concerned?

She nodded, "Okay, but what does that have to do with Fred?"

George swallowed, "Harry may have mentioned that he heard her say his name under her breath today."

Fred froze on the spot. _Shite_. That wasn't good. He hadn't thought about that. He hadn't taken into consideration the perceived implication of their predicament. If others caught her talking to him, they would assume she was speaking with herself. That would shed a negative light on her return.

"What made Harry think to come and talk to you?" Angie paused as she asked the question.

There was tension in the air. As if the answer was loaded. Filled with the knowledge everyone wanted to avoid. Fred furrowed his brow as he gazed between his twin and sister-in-law. What was it that they were skirting around? Why did it seem like they didn't want to have this conversation?

With a nod George bowed his head, "He put it together. I'm not sure. It's Harry. He probably spent hours analyzing every single second, every tiny moment, he ever witnessed between them."

Fred inched closer. Who? Shared moments between who?

George looked up, a small smile gracing his features, "No one knows exactly why she left. It was abrupt and came out of nowhere, but I've always suspected. Everyone tried so hard to move on. She and Ron fizzled out. Well, they never really ended up starting anything. Regardless, where did that leave her? Everyone had someone. I had you, Ron found Lavender, Harry and Gin. She was alone. Of course, we were all _here_ for her, but it wasn't the same."

He sighed and Angie reached over, threading her fingers through his. Fred saw the moisture building in his brother's eyes and he backed away, shocked at the intense emotion.

"She put all her eggs in one basket, made a decision and ended up burned for it." George sighed, "It was always there. I can't say I knew her intimately, but I fancy that I knew her well enough. She admired him, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Not only that – there was a flame that shot through her when they fought. It wasn't anything like how she yelled at Ron. It was different. He brought forth a burning in her."

"Y'know, she still can't look at me." George admitted, "Her eyes barely met mine when she came in the other day. At tea, she spent most of her time looking around the room. She never settles her gaze on mine. I know it's because of him. She'll never be able to see _me_ without seeing him." Angie pulled George's hand up to her mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. He nodded, thankful for the gesture, "She always knew how to tell us apart and now she can only see him where he doesn't exist. Lost to her forever but doomed to be reminded of him because of me."

Fred stumbled backward. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was no way that Hermione disappeared because of him. It was impossible. Why would he have been the reason she left? There was no way he was the entire reason for her disappearance. He was just the annoying older brother. The one that constantly frustrated her.

George leaned his head on the rest behind him, a sad smile gracing his features, "Fred always held a torch for her. He loved her. There was no doubt about it. It was secret, and one he never shared, but he was my twin. I knew him better than he knew himself. You could see it in the way she riled him up, the way they fought. Or the way he beamed when she said something exceptionally smart. It was always there. In the background. In school, especially in seventh, he was adamant about outperforming our previous ventures. He wanted to be _remembered_. To show off."

"No!" Fred whispered furiously. Shock coursed through him as his secret came out. He shook his head frantically, at a loss. He played it safe, no one was supposed to have known. No one was supposed to have figured it out.

George sniffed, tugging Angie closer and pulling her into his lap, "They lost their chance, Ange. I'm nothing but a sore reminder of what she'll never get to have. He's gone. I've had my chance to mourn, and while I'll never fully be healed, she never had the chance to even start." He sighed, laying his head atop of Angie's, "Harry thinks she might've been in love with him too. He heard her talking to herself and speaking to someone else as if they were with her. He thinks she might be hallucinating that Fred is with her."

Fred backed away, his mouth opening and shutting as he tried to deal with the revelation. There was no way that Hermione held any secret affections for him. They'd fought constantly. She regularly told him she thought he was wasting his time. Spitting in the face of his abilities by opening a joke shop.

True, she wasn't pushing back at him in their current situation, but this was different. They were friends. Regardless of any prior irritations. Not to mention, she was coming around to the idea that he wasn't a figment of her imagination. Or was she? Did she think he was nothing more than a hallucination?

Fred stumbled, swallowing at that train of thought. Was he making her condition even worse? Convincing her she had actually lost her mind. Gone barmy. Rolling his lips together, Fred reached forward and brushed his fingers through his hair. A nervous tick he'd picked up this last year. He fell back on his haunches, framing his head with both his hands. This wasn't at all like he planned.

He figured they'd work together. Fix his tiny 'not existing' problem. She was the smartest person he knew, besides himself and George. If there was anyone to find a solution, it would be her.

He wasn't actually dead… was he?

Fred's mind spun. Every second of the last few days replaying. His breathing sped up and he buckled over trying to find balance. Find something to keep him level. George's words echoed around him, _'Harry thinks she may have loved him too'_. Too? Too! When had everything become so complicated?

Fred shot back up, "Hermione!"

He bellowed her name into the void. He needed to see her. He needed to get this straightened out. Have a real conversation. He spun around to make his way out of the apartment above the shop when his entire world blurred and slowed down.

Fear shot through his spine, pooling in his stomach. He took a step forward, pushing through the fog but stumbled. He lost focus, the dizzy feeling of being lightheaded rocked him. He strongarmed himself, forcing himself forward. He dropped down to his knees, a cry on anguish falling from his lips.

"Please no," He hissed through his clenched teeth.

He couldn't explain what was happening, only that he knew this sensation. The familiarity of it caused a sense of dread in his entire being. He crawled forward, trying to keep his head up and looking onwards. The world darkened. Angie and George faded into the distance as the ground opened up, swallowing him whole. He fell backwards into a pit of black, reaching out for his brother, screaming in hopes that someone would hear him.

Nothing changed. The light from the fireplace withering into nothing as his consciousness disappeared.


	6. Saturday Morning

**A/N: I couldn't wait until Tuesday! Fridays may be the new update day for this fic. I love you all, thank you for sticking with this and lemme know what you think!**

* * *

_"I'm sorry if it's all too much  
Every day you're here, I'm healing  
And I was runnin' out of luck  
I never thought I'd find this feeling_

_Symphony (feat. Lara Zarsson) – Clean Bandit_

Everything surged around him, moving faster than usual. He felt stiff, stuck in place. His limbs heavy and weighing him down. His eyes whipped from side to side, catching the commotion as it swelled back into existence around him. He blinked as Wix blurred around and through him. He moved to lift his arm to cover his eyes from the blinding sun, but it never came up. All his joints were stiff. He let out a frustrated growl, watching as the world continued on without him. He screamed. He needed to find her. He needed to see her. Tell her – _well_ – maybe not tell her anything yet. It didn't matter; he just needed to see her.

He closed his eyes, willing his telltale Weasley temper to cool down. It wouldn't do him any good to have it explode when he couldn't direct that energy at something. That's when it occurred to him. He smirked, channelling all that unkempt energy and felt the warmth spread back through each limb, from shoulder to fingertip, all that way down into each toe. It didn't take him long until he had full function again. The world slowed down to an average pace, and he took off in a run towards the Leaky, back to her. He felt high, free. He faded through the front door and turned towards the stairs.

"Hermione!" He shouted, the thrill of new beginnings thrumming through him.

He flew up the stairs and directly towards her door. Reaching it, he stopped abruptly to center himself. With a smile, he flickered through her door to see that her bed was empty and perfectly made. She was already awake. He took a few steps into her room, noticing that she had laid out her clothes for the day. His attention was drawn away from her bed to the ajar bathroom door. He could head the shower running by the echo in the background. He was eager to speak with her, but he knew he needed to wait.

He took a moment to stand and be still. This was where he always wanted to be. With her. Near her. He wished he dared to tell her before things turned out the way they did. He entertained the thought of travelling back in time to tell her his true feelings. Bill's wedding would've been the perfect chance. He swore to himself as he made that connection.

He listened as the water turned off, and his eyes lit up. This was it, the moment when so much could change. Through the opening in the door, he heard her humming resonate in the acoustics of the bathroom, filtering into the main room. Excitement plucked at him as she slipped back into the main room.

He watched as she danced out of the bathroom into the adjoining room. Her hair was piled on top of her head, her wand securing most of it in place. It didn't do the job in entirety because there were curls haphazardly falling out and framing her face. One thick strand was even hanging over her shoulder. He grinned to himself. She reminded him of a fairy princess at that moment. Carefree and mischievous. Her humming progressed into a light melody as she double rolled the towel around her body to make sure it wouldn't fall.

He loved to see how many of her muggle habits bled through into the wizarding world. Instead of using a drying charm, she chose to wrap a towel around her and let herself drip dry naturally. It was such a simple charm used without a second thought by wizards but never by her. It endeared him to her even more. She never lost her roots. It didn't matter that she was thrust into an alien and magical world. She still held close to the things that were a part of her core.

"Y'know there's a charm for that," He commented.

His voice caused her to start, and she let out a girlish squeak, pulling her hand to her mouth to stifle it. His smile widened. It was the first time she reacted without pulling her wand on him. She was making progress. Not always on the alert. That _had_ to be a good sign. A sign of her healing. She rolled her eyes at him when she registered him standing near the front door. She waved him off a light chuckle.

"You scared the living daylights out of me." She mock scolded him.

He grinned, letting out a soft laugh, "Apologies, I figured you needed a reminder that you are indeed, _a witch_."

He gave her a coy wink and watched as the colour in her cheeks rose at his quip. She laughed along with him, not even bothering to hide her face at his blatant flirting. She went about gathering her effects while chatting to him about something unimportant. He watched her as she carried her clothes into the bathroom with her, her voice carrying over her shoulder.

He tuned out, unsure of what she was going on about, only able to focus on how alive she was. He swallowed, his revelations from the night before slowly losing their emergency. He let out a deep sigh as he stepped up to her bed. He noticed the unfolded parchment sitting on the edge. He looked down and read Harry's familiar writing. He felt pressure around his eyes and knew exactly what realization he was coming too.

She was moving on. She was getting better. Soon, she wouldn't need him. Not like he needed her. He gulped. The real question was, was he ready for her to carry on without him. He ground his teeth together. He promised himself not to get his hopes up, but that was the tiny white lie he'd chosen to ignore. He'd held on tight to the premise of coming back, becoming whole again. All with her help. He wasn't ready to believe was that this was it that this was all he was. A shadow of his former self. Living in the between, only here to help her, but never be with her.

_Where did that leave him? Did he want to slow down her progress by demanding that she focus on finding a way for him to come back?_ If there even was a way. He never truly entertained the idea that he was gone. _Dead_. It seemed too hard of a concept to accept, but maybe now was the time to explore that outcome.

He wasn't a figment of her imagination. He existed outside of her. He was here before she came back. His shoulders relaxed, having some of his worries relieved. In hindsight, he realized how utterly wrong he was in those moments last night. _Was there any hope?_ Hope that they could find a solution. Something to make him tangible again. _Was he willing to plague her with hanging on to something that wasn't there?_

He knew the answer as soon as the question formed. _No_. He'd never hold her back. She meant too much, not only to him but to everyone. They deserved to have her back. He wasn't going to hold on to some pipe dream. He would have to accept his circumstance. She'd understand. He knew she would.

"Fred?" He heard her voice call out to him.

He glanced up, having not heard her question at all, "Beg your pardon?"

She tilted her head at him, a confused look in her eye, "I asked if you'd be there today? At the memorial?"

"Oh," He shrugged, "I hadn't really given it much thought."

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

She woke up as the sun rose but chose to remain in bed, keeping her eyes closed. She could hear the mixture of wizarding and muggle London outside her window, which made her believe that she fell asleep with the window open.

She cracked one eye open to confirm her thoughts and was right. She smiled to herself, wondering why it wasn't much colder in her room. It didn't matter that it was the beginning of May, or how warm it was during the daytime. It was still chilly at night during the springtime. She rolled over onto her back, closing her eyes again and feeling lighter than she ever had in the past year. She had been dreading this day. Knowing what it symbolized, but for some reason, that dread had disappeared overnight. It wasn't anywhere to be found.

She sighed contentedly. She could do this. Today was going to be a good day. No matter what gamut of emotions she went through. In the end, it would be worth it. She'd visit with all her friends, see the Weasley clan finally and everything was going to be ok.

There was a light pecking by her window, and she glanced up to see Harry's new owl perched there, waiting patiently. She tossed the covers back, summoned her dressing robe and wrapped it around herself as she walked over to the beautiful creature. It held it's leg out to her, and she unwrapped the parchment while giving a few scratches behind the wing. Rousing a few treats, she offered them and then the owl was on its way.

She sat on the edge of her mattress and read the letter. Her mouth turning up into a smile. He was personally extending his hand to her, asking to accompany her to the memorial as a team. As her best friend. Not a war hero. Hermione and Harry. It was comforting to have Harry offer the company. She knew they both needed it. Ron too. However, it was her and Harry that went through those cold nights alone together. They were the glue that held each other up, even when they'd both been on the brink of giving up. He truly was her best friend.

She looked up and gazed out the window, seeing as people went about their business. This day held heavy emotions, but she felt weightless. A shadow of her former happiness inching its way back in. A feeling she missed and now feeling comfortable enough to welcome back. Her survivor's guilt at an all-time low. It was ironic that on the very day they were set to remember, she was finding herself letting go.

She hadn't expected to get to this point so soon – _only a year later_ – but she knew who she could thank for the change. Her saving grace, her secret weapon. Even if he was a creation of her mind, she couldn't deny that he'd been the catalyst to propel her forward.

He stayed encouraging her to open up. He brought back many smiles, and she was always rewarded with one of his own in return. Her heart started beating again. Her chest no longer a hollowed-out cave. She felt life thrumming through her again. He'd been the one to push her, in a way that only he could. It never came across forced. His personality complimenting hers in a way that was natural. Not to mention his humour. All the jokes and innuendos, serving as her reminder of what life had to offer.

Her mind kept the vision of him intact, and when he was present with her, she remembered why she loved him. His wit and charm endearing, while masking the pure genius he was. Someone who could genuinely challenge her. The one person to make her stop and think. Someone who truly understood the need and enjoyed a good debate. She recognized the strange situation she was in, accepting the mirage her mind had created for her. A way to help her heal and come to terms with the things she couldn't change, but also offering her a way back to herself, through someone who had turned out to be her perfect match. When he finally did disappear, she would miss him all the more. Until then, she had this.

_Her laughter bubbled out before she could stop it. She watched as Fred swung his hips around, exaggerating the movement. He may have been joking, but she could see the skill in his actions. She cocked her head to the side and wondered how she never noticed it before. Didn't they share a dance at Bill and Fleurs wedding? She was sure of it. Shouldn't she have noticed it then? No matter. She was seeing it now. _

_The music of the square was loud, echoing all around. People were coming from every direction, enjoying the festival. She opted to take another walk through muggle London, Fred trailing along with her. She hadn't expected to happen upon a springtime street festival, but alas, here they were. Enjoying the festivities with everyone else. It was one of the first days she'd seen true sunshine in the city and was glad to see that other Londoners were taking advantage of the weather. _

_The street buskers were entertaining the crowds with their loud and cheerful music, which is how she found herself watching Fred dance his way through the many different muggles around them. It reminded her of a simpler time. To the year of the Triwizard tournament. Where he'd mimicked these particular dance moves to Angie, as he asked her to the Yule Ball. Her face fell for a brief second as she recalled what that year brought forth. She swallowed, reminded that was the year when everything went downhill. The start of the second war. She chewed on her lip, the thoughts racing through her mind, but her attention was quickly called back to the present. _

_She snapped her head up at the sound of Fred shouting her name and had to stifle the broad grin that grew on her mouth. She covered her face as Fred spun around, embellishing his footwork and sliding back to stand in front of her. He bowed with a flourish, holding out his hand to her. _

_"May I have this dance, milady?" He asked, his eyes staring up at her, hopeful. _

_She shook her head, and he frowned. He widened his eyes, and she shook her head again, this time in affectionate exasperation. His puppy dog eyes breaking her resolve. Taking a quick glance around, she stepped into the circle around one of the buskers. She couldn't believe what she was doing. Virtually alone, but knowing that he was there with her in spirit. She inhaled deeply, letting herself fall out of her comfort zone. Under the ruse of joining in with the other dancers, she accepted Fred's proposal, and the two of the shimmied with the group. _

_It didn't take long, soon those around her had accepted her presence, and while she was really dancing with Fred, she was also dancing among strangers. Letting all her fears and sorrows go for the moment, she let herself just be. Present. Here. Experiencing life as it happened to her. She felt Fred's eyes on her, and with a flip of her hair, she met his gaze. He'd stopped dancing and was standing in the middle of the moving group, watching her. His smile held an emotion she'd never seen on him before. An emotion that had her catching her breath. _

_He tilted his head to the side, the affection clear in his expression. She felt a warm flush heat her cheeks. How was it that he could elicit these types of feelings in her? She angled her head just so, allowing her hair to curtain over her face as she hid behind it. She heard his laughter at her reaction. Concentrating on anything but the feeling welling inside her, she bounced up on her toes. She wiggled her hips, still conscious of the heat in his eyes but choosing not to meet his gaze on purpose. _

_She felt seen, wanted, cared for. All things she was unsure she'd ever have again. He reminded her how much the world had to offer. Both wizarding and muggle alike. He prodded her to reacquaint herself with the simple things. What was that saying, laughter was the best medicine? How had she not thought of that before? How was it that it took a dead man to show her how to truly be alive? _

_She felt a hand brush against hers and looked over to see a stranger offering to be her partner. With a glance back at Fred, he shooed his hands in her direction, beckoning her to take up the offer. She nodded to him, reached forward and placed her hand in the strangers. With a broad smile, she was whisked around. She let out a squeal of laughter as the man danced her around in circles. She was apart of the moment, with all these other people. Closing her eyes, she imagined the hand that held her upper back was that of Fred's. If this was as close as she could get, she'd take it. _

An almost foreign sentiment gathered inside her at the memory. She couldn't say it was the truest form of the emotion, but it was a start. With a smile, she stood and began the motions of getting ready. She had a little over an hour before Harry would be coming by. Stepping into the shower, she reminisced on the short time she'd been back, focusing on the moments she held with Fred. The new memories she made with his likeness.


	7. Saturday Afternoon

**A/N: Another week, another chapter! R&R, lemme know what you think. I have to admit, this chapter and next week's chapter made me cry while writing.**

**Playlist: **_An Outdated Map on Spotify under my penname Crimsonheart01_**  
_  
Disclaimer: I don't own HP_**

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_"There's a time that I remember when I did not know no pain  
When I believed in forever, and everything would stay the same  
Now my heart feels like December when somebody say your name  
'Cause I can't reach out to call you, but I know I will one day, yeah"_

_Memories – Maroon 5_

Together, she and Harry appeared in the portkey alcove of Hogsmeade, just outside the train station. She braced for the onslaught of emotions but was surprised when she didn't buckle. Instead, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. In her mind's eye, she pictured several years of boarding the train. Smiles, tears, laughter and cheer. It all rose in her ears, and she felt the prickle of happy tears touch the corners of her eyes. All her years at Hogwarts rushing forward and bringing with them the memories of those who weren't here today. A frog grew in her throat while a small drop of anxiety pooled in her stomach. Fortunately, her emotions didn't have the chance to overwhelm her for Harry's hand curled around hers and squeezed.

She exhaled audibly, blinked a few times and glanced over at her friend. He offered her a crooked and subdued smile. His similar discomfort relieving her. She wasn't the only one suffering. She nodded at him and attempted a smile back. It was sad, but they both understood the sentiment. Hermione let go of Harry's hand and lifted her bent arm, waiting for him to take it. Once they were arm in arm, they walked on. Keeping each other up and grounded.

They reached the carriages, and both of them paused to take in the terrifying beauty of the Thestrals. She almost forgot about them. They were extravagant and wild. Their hooves kicking at the ground, gravel and dirt shooting up in their wake. Hermione inhaled, clutching Harry closer and admiring the creatures from a distance.

"Stunning, aren't they?" A deep cadence sounded from behind them.

Hermione startled, and Harry patted her arm tenderly. They turned to find Kingsley standing off to the left. His gaze roamed slowly from the Thestral over to the two heroes. He gave them an affectionate nod. Hermione almost let the tears fall at that moment. Even with how much had changed, Kings was still the same. Stoic and reserved. Every word he didn't speak coming through in his body language. Disentangling herself from Harry, she broached the new Minister gingerly, but he welcomed her with a warm smile. No reservations at her advance. She sighed as she embraced him—the familiarity of a friend bringing her more ease.

Their reunion was called to end by another person approaching them. This time when Hermione registered the voice, she did let a few tears fall.

"Hermione," Ginny outstretched her arms, standing in the middle of the laneway, uncaring to everyone else around them trying to get around.

Hermione didn't even bother to hideaway. She pulled back from Kingsley and moved directly into Ginny's open arms. Together they buried their heads into each other's necks, holding on dearly. Hermione had forgotten how warm Ginny was. Part of it her fiery personality, part of it being her larger than life heart. She breathed in, revelling in the comfort she found in Ginny, a woman she considered close enough to be a sister.

"Hey Gin," She whispered to her friend.

Ginny squeezed her, letting out a small sniff and laughing at her show of emotion. Neither of them able to keep their eyes dry. They pulled apart but stayed close, holding on to each other's upper arms. Ginny cocked her head to the left, taking the time to just be in her presence. Hermione it her bottom lip, a watery smile growing. Lifting one hand away from the ginger, Hermione wiped at her cheek and caught a few stray tears.

Ginny leaned in, "There's so much we need to catch up on. I missed you."

"I missed you too." Hermione nodded with an exhale, "A girl's night is needed for sure."

Hermione met Ginny's eyes to see the fire burning behind them. Ginny understood. She may have been angry at first, but ultimately, she understood Hermione's reasoning and didn't hold anything against her. They all had their own demons to face. They all had their own coping mechanisms to develop. Neither of them chose to speak on it. It wasn't needed; they both knew their feelings were reciprocated in each other. The acceptance stilled the wave of insecurities within Hermione. Keeping those unspoken words between them was enough. Ginny knew her well. Knew how to read her and vice versa. A welcome side effect of the many holidays they'd been paired together at the Burrow.

Harry stepped up to one of the carriages and opened its door. Beckoning both Ginny and Hermione forward, he climbed up the steps behind them, and together they rode up towards the castle and the memorial site.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

As the ceremony blurred on, Hermione stood surrounded by the Weasley clan. Molly refusing to let her stay anywhere alone. Not after learning how alone she truly was. Arthur had squeezed her in the most paternal hug she had experienced in longer than she wanted to admit. The embrace itself brought forth a lot of repressed emotions within her. However, she refused to let herself become overwhelmed, instead choosing to accept the pain along with the mending. She let her eyes bounce over each one of the redheads around her. Even Charlie had come in from Romania. It was a certified reunion, and it made her heart swell. They were her family, in everything except blood.

Hermione felt a hand slip into hers as a hush grew over the crowd. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw as Ron gave her a soft smile. Lavender leaned forward slightly and offered her a similar smile, and Hermione felt her breath catch. She hadn't expected to have any feelings towards being accepted by Lavender but felt tremendous relief that there were no hard feelings between them. She reciprocated their smiles and turned back to the front.

The three of them turned back to the front as the end of the service started. Kingsley took the stage first, his words were short, sweet and encouraging. Minerva was next to stand at the podium, words of promise to a new future. Hermione nodded along with everything they had to say, agreeing. It was the dawn of a new age. A time where old prejudices to be put to bed and come out together, stronger and more resilient. There was a long line of people with a speech to make, a story to tell, memories to reignite.

As a grand finale, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, took the stage. The _boy_ who fought a war and inspired many. A boy who lost everything before he knew what he had, but in the same vein gained even more than he could've ever wished for. She brought her hands together, clapping along with all the rest as she watched the young boy – now a man – stand tall in front of the crowd. True to form, Harry spoke with quiet conviction, bringing forth that sense of undivided loyalty back.

Hermione swallowed as she listened to his soliloquy. His words weaving magic into the minds of everyone there, showcasing the real power that love brought and how to best wield it. Several tears cascaded down her cheek, and she swiped them away with her index finger, doing her best to keep her reaction to a minimum. Harry began naming those close to him that he lost. Starting with his parents, Sirius, Albus, Hedwig, Moody, Colin, Remus, Tonks, Fred. That name stuck. The only Weasley not here. She watched as the whole clan all reached for one another, and she felt a sharp pang in her heart.

Content to watch the heartfelt support the family gave to each other, she took a few steps back, offering them space. Every one of them there to raise each other up. She knew this moment wasn't meant for her. It was for them. As Harry was raising a proverbial glass to those fallen, she took that as her moment to slip away. With the commotion of silent and whispered incantations, Hermione faded into the distance.

She didn't want to burden anyone with her own inner turmoil. She had her own losses, but now it was time for the collective to be comforted together. She wasn't on the same upward trajectory, not yet. She was starting, but not quite there. Instead of bringing those down around her, she opted to branch off for a bit on her own. Taking some time to herself. Process the grief she was going through.

She stood in the middle of the lane leading towards the castle and stared at her second home. The place she grew to love and then hate. It housed some of her best memories, but also the worst. Being back here, on these grounds, was bittersweet. Taking a deep breath in, she pushed onward. She couldn't avoid those walls forever. They held too much for her. Even if the bad came with the good. She needed to embrace both to heal properly. She knew that now thanks to her phantom.

Stepping into the courtyard, a shadow of a grin flickered on her face. No longer were the beams smashed into ruins. They stood proud and tall. Sturdy. The reparations bringing back their former glory. Nothing looked out of place. A new home for students to come back too. She heard the echo of her footsteps as she pressed on, stopping briefly to stare up the steps that lead to the Great Hall. She remembered all the times in her past that she took these steps. All the start of term feasts that she partook in.

Taking them slowly, she came over the threshold and sniffled at the candles floating in the air. The ambiance of the room holding true. Nothing seemed out of place or different. As if a whole war hadn't been fought in this very room. The long tables were back in their rightful places. The crests and house colours decorating the walls. She smiled up at the enchanted ceiling, feeling a phantom warmth of the sun as it shone down. She flattened her palm on the new plaque that was adorned next to the opened doors. It was a relic, a reminder of those who had fallen here. What this room held in it's past.

Backing away, she moved on, finding herself absentmindedly ascending the moving staircase. She hadn't been paying attention to where they were taking her, assuming she'd find herself on the floor where Gryffindor Tower was held. Instead, she found herself staring down the wide, seventh-floor hallway. She paused, shocked at where she'd unknowingly brought herself. With heavy legs, she lumbered forward. She heard the stairs readjust themselves behind her, and she blinked. She hadn't meant to come up here, where her chance at real love had ceased. The place where she was forced to make one decision over another.

Hermione stood at the end of the hallway, spotting the newly christened classroom where the old Room of Requirement had once been housed. It was odd to see a door there from this distance. She could still see all the different entries that appeared to her there. The tall silver one from fifth year. The small wooden broom cupboard one from when she was hiding from Pansy in her sixth year. The wide, worn dark brown one from when it housed the refugees of seventh year. The variations never-ending. The room always sensing what was needed most and when.

A deep sorrow rushed through her as it became glaringly evident that that magic would never be experienced by anyone else, ever again. The room never morphing into a safe space a stray traveller needed most. The old charm gone. Lifting a hand, she placed it flat on the cool stone next to her and closed her eyes. She might have been imagining it, but she felt a jolt in the palm of her hand. The castle responding to her, offering its form of condolences. Sometimes, if she concentrated hard enough, she could feel the low thrum of magic whirring through the castle. It brought her comfort, knowing that magic was always there, always alive. It was a part of her – of them.

A scrape against the floor called her attention back to the present. A burn of embarrassment flushed up her torso as she was caught in such a personal moment. She rolled her lips together and blinked several times, hoping to hide the raw emotion she had written all over her expression. She turned to the intruder and inhaled sharply when she saw his twin standing there. The wrong name sat on the tip of her tongue, and choosing to save herself anymore hurt; she remained silent.

"Unsettling, isn't it?" George asked, his gaze steady on the never-changing classroom door.

Hermione pulled her arm in towards her, cradling it against her chest. She faced forward, staring at the unchanging door with him. She was still too scared to meet George's eyes, worried that all she would see was Fred looking back at her. It wasn't fair, and she knew it. George had been supportive, and she couldn't disrespect him while he was still in mourning.

"I helped with the rebuilding," He continued as he stepped forward to stand beside her, "I told everyone I was doing it for the younger students, saying that they needed a place to learn. No one believed me, of course. They all knew the real reason. I wanted an excuse to be here, as close to him as possible. The last place he stood still full of life." George swallowed, and his eyes flickered down to her, "Perce volunteered with me," He let out a hollow chuckle, "The two of us put so much work into these walls. I doubt they'll ever fall apart for any reason ever again. Impenetrable." He lifted a fist and knocked it against the stone.

She breathed in and with watery eyes, met his for a brief moment. His expression matched hers, and they both recognized the sorrow in each other. He reached out, tossing an arm around her shoulder and tugging her into a brotherly embrace. It was warm and tight. She inched her arm around his waist and gripped him tightly. Together they held on, keeping each other upright. Neither of them needed to say much. A lot happened in this hallway. Events occurring that would change the course of their lives forever.

After a long silence, George let go and tugged Hermione around to stand directly in front of him. His hands rested on her shoulders as he stared down at her. His gaze heavy and filled with a sibling-like love. She stared back at him, a bit confused but trusting that he'd explain himself. He smiled down at her. It wasn't the radiant grin that Fred would flash, but it was uncannily similar that she let out a chuckle and sniffed with the memory. George nodded. He knew, and he understood.

"Your secret is safe with me, Mione." He promised, "Always has been, always will."

Hermione lifted one hand to her mouth, pressing against it to keep the sob inside as her eyes clouded with tears. She closed her eyes and, using the back of her hand, started wiping away the moisture. She fought to keep her composure but was failing. George gave her a sympathetic smile. Dropping his hands away from her, he opened his arms. She surged forward, burrowing into him and letting the tears fall with abandon. A sob escaped her throat, and he wrapped his arms around her in comfort, lending his strength to her.

"I'm sorry," She cried out, "I'm so sorry!"

She had no idea what she was apologizing for, only that she felt the need too. Maybe it was because he wasn't Fred and she wished that he was. Or it was the fact that she had been there when it happened and was too paralyzed to help. She failed in so many ways, so many times. _How could anyone think she was the brightest witch of their age?_ It was all a lie. She couldn't perform at that moment. Frozen then and now. Unsure of her own brilliance.

George clutched her in closer, "Don't apologize, Hermione. We all wished we did things a little differently."

She buried her head in his chest, closing her eyes and welcoming his warmth. She'd been scared, scared of George. Everything about him was Fred, except that he wasn't him. She imagined that this would have been what it felt like if Fred had been able to hold her, console her. She felt a surge of jealously rise within her. Jealous that Angie got to have this, and she didn't.

Her sobbing grew more hysteric as she tried to level out her emotions. Angie wasn't at any fault. She was one of the lucky ones. Hermione fought her anger. It wasn't anyone's fault she didn't get her chance with Fred. No one knew that she and Ron were going to peter out. Childhood crushes not enough to withstand the rest of life that was to come. No one knew that they would lose Fred the way they did.

George switched between patting her on the back and rubbing a hand up and down. It was a technique his mom had always used on them. One that they now practiced with one another. Hermione sniffed, taking an extra moment to hold onto him, giving herself one lasting memory of what it would feel like to have Fred in her arms. With a deep breath, she pushed back and lifted her hands to her face. She swiped at her cheeks, clearing them of the tear tracks and smiled timidly up at George.

He met her with a friendly grin, "C'mon, let's join the others."

He tossed his arm around her shoulders and guided her from the seventh-floor hallway, back towards the staircase.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

Fred stared at the backs of George and Hermione as they retreated, making their way back to the rest of the living. He felt a lick of jealousy as his brother's arm laid across her shoulders, but he quickly silenced it. What would jealousy do for him? It couldn't bring him back. He was gone. This being the closest he'd ever be to her again. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he followed them, leaving a wide berth. He didn't want to overhear any conversations they might be having.

He stayed close. All for her. All at her request. He promised her he'd come, even if he hadn't planned initially too. He feared this day – event – would bring forth the heavy truths he had been ignoring for so long. The ones that pointed to the same answer. That this was it. This was all he was going to be. A phantom of his former self, existing in the in-between. Nothing more, nothing less.

He chose to keep himself scarce all afternoon, watching as she mended all the broken fences between her and those that loved her. His heart swelled when he watched his family embrace her, surround her, as one of their own. He knew they always would, but seeing it was a different story. It was a wish he hadn't known he harboured coming to life, bringing him warmth to know that they would stand beside her, even in her hardest times. He hoped she'd always remember that. Remember that they were still there for her.

Out on the grounds, he caught up with the group, listening to the plans being made. Now that the memorial was over, Lee and George were inviting any and everyone to the shop. '_A Celebration for the ages_.' Fred smiled, seeing the joy and happiness inching its way back in the group. The healing had begun, and from here on out, it was only going to get better.

Fred sighed as several people walked through him, crudely reminding him of his predicament. He nodded his head in resignation. He was never going to be more than a painful memory. One that was only going to hold her back. He glanced up, spotting her standing with Harry and Gin. She had her hands clasped together in front of her and was smiling. A real smile. Not one of those fake ones she'd adopted of late. He let out a heavy breath. He couldn't stomach being a burden. She deserved to move on and live fully.

His acceptance was interrupted with a sonorous charm, and George's voice rippling over the group. He invited everyone back to Weasley Wizard Wheezes to enjoy some tricks and a treat. Within seconds the group started disappearing, following after the leader, keen to keep the good feelings running. Hermione finally glanced up, and her eyes searched until they found his. He schooled his face into his favoured mask and gave her a hopeful smile. She nodded back, her smile mirroring his and with a spin on her foot, she was gone.


	8. Saturday Evening

**A/N: I cried like a baby writing and editing this. I can't edit anymore. I have a headache from crying LMAO. I hope you enjoy this, oh and this is not the end! A few more chapters left! Lemme know what you think. **

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_"Don't you know I'm no good for you?  
I've learned to lose; you can't afford to  
Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding  
But nothing ever stops you leaving"  
__when the party's over – Billie Eilish_

Within seconds, Diagon Alley was filled with the familiar cracks of apparition. The sound of laughter and chatter following, bouncing off every stone and wall. The cheerfulness of fond memories imbued into the air around them. She whipped her head around, thrown by the commotion and unable to pinpoint where her friends ended up. Her eyes roamed the crowd around her, listening as the rising energies came to a peak above their heads.

With an extravagant flourish, she watched as George cleared his throat theatrically. The sonorous charm used causing the sound to reverberate against the cobblestone. She held back a grin at his antics. There was a time in her past when she wished he could tone it down. Now she wished for the exact opposite. She never wanted to see him diminish himself for any reason. She was happy to know he still kept that part of him in the aftermath. She closed her eyes, the anticipation thrumming through her veins and startled only slightly when his voice boomed across the crowd.

"Everyone inside!" George called out over the ruckus, "First round of firewhiskey on me!"

Cheers went up from all around. Hermione shrank back but smiled. She was utterly overwhelmed although letting the feeling carry her. As uplifting as the feeling was, the tightening in her chest alerted her of her swirling anxiety. Too much, too fast. She needed to take a moment. Moving off to the side, she kept a keen eye as witches and wizards alike began clamouring forward, making their way to the Weasley Wizard Wheeze's front doors. George could be heard above the noise, making egregious bets as they went. Harry caught her eye as he wrapped an arm around Ginny's waist and sent her a hopeful smile. Hermione nodded, agreeing to participate. He gave her an understanding nod and turned away.

She hung back, taking a minute to breathe. She concentrated on nothing but the steady rhythm of air filling her lungs and the corresponding exhale. After a few minutes a sense of normalcy filtered through, and she felt like she could breathe again. She scanned her immediate area, noting the sparse patrons on the street. Everyone had gone inside. With renewed energy, she stepped up towards the front doors of the shop. She peered in through the front window, hand out and poised to turn the handle but found herself frozen.

She could see the warmth in there. The hue escaping into the bleary day overhead. Everything painted in a heavenly yellow. She blinked several times and blew a huff of air through her lips. Licking her lips, she felt at odds with the atmosphere inside. Noting that even with all the grave losses they experienced, there was still optimism to be found. Plentiful reasons to live and carry on. To be _alive_. Her eyes bounced from each smile to each laugh, and every kiss on the cheek. The claps on the shoulder, a round of toasts, it brought her back and forward simultaneously.

Her hand suspended in the air, still unsure of her decision to join the festivities.

"Freddie?" She called out into the evening air.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

Fred had been standing out of sight, keeping a weather eye on his charge. He grinned at the tomfoolery of his twin. The show bringing about affirmation that no matter what came around, George would prevail. His brother had been surrounded by friends and family. The love they shared for one another lifting them up and pushing them to carry on.

A love that would give Hermione the boost she readily needed. He wavered as she watched the internal struggle she was battling, but in the end, he had faith. She was stronger than she allowed herself to believe. With a nudge in the right direction, she'd make it over the hill. She'd be on the same level field as the rest of them. He took care as he stepped forward, hoping to keep her undisturbed while she came to her own decisions.

A few feet away, he swallowed when she called out to him. His heart took turns beating rapidly at her attention while squeezing with pangs of guilt. He knew she needed to let him go. He knew he was going to have to take a step back. She would never wholly heal while he was always close by. Regardless, he couldn't deny her. Not now, not in her time of need.

"I'm here." He answered, a few feet to her left.

His eyes caught the twitch of her fingers as they reached for the door handle. He fought the urge to reach out, knowing he'd never make the connection. Instead, he chose to stare forward, watching the celebration through the glass. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her turn to him. He did a double-take when he noted the wetness settling in her expression.

He cocked his head to the side, "Alright love?"

She blinked, in response, a few tears tumbling to the ground.

"I don't think I can do this." She stage-whispered, shaking her head.

A rush of empathy went through him. A need to embrace her tightly in his arms overwhelming him. He fought the crushing feeling of his windpipe and offered her a sympathetic smile.

He shook his head, turning to face her, "Of course you can. You're the great Hermione Granger. Bloody brightest witch of her age."

His voice quivered slightly with his statement and he clenched his teeth together to keep himself upbeat for her. She stared longingly through the door and he knew that feeling well. He wished he was there to join them, properly. There was a long moment of silence between them while she contemplated her choices.

Fred watched as a paper airplane whizzed around the heads of a few and he followed it. It weaved in around, through and under the limbs of the Wix standing around. That one small enchanted object eventually lead his gaze to an important grouping in there. The most important to the two of them. He let out a quiet chuckle. It wasn't any happier than it was sombre.

He caught her attention and nodded in their direction, "That's your family in there. Even on your worst days, they're always going to be there. They always have been and always will."

Hermione stepped closer toward the door, peering through and watching them closely. He advanced into her side, standing directly beside her.

"They love you, Hermione and they're still healing too." He continued to reassure her, "George struggles with his own reflection. You can help him see that he's his own person. He can help you remember that even in death, I'm still there." Hermione let out a quiet sob at his statement but he pushed on, "Harry still has nightmares. Ginny does her best to calm him but you spent those countless nights on the run with him. Being the one he turned too to help quell the terror. If there's anyone there who can help you overcome the obstacle of being an orphan and the nightmares that follow alongside, it'd be him."

He watched as Hermione's throat bobbed while she listened. He gave her a soft smile even though she wasn't looking, "Ginny's pregnant and surrounded by men. Angie may be her sister-in-law who's had a baby, but you can't pretend that you aren't her _sister_. All the holidays, and nights you spent locked up in the same room. She needs you as much as you need her." He chuckled when his eyes settled on Ron, "And what about my moron of a little brother. He may be married with a wife, but no one could ever handle that mess better than you and Harry. He's floundering at the thought of being a father. Lavender is oblivious right now, but someone needs to be there to push him to be the best father and husband he can be."

Hermione laughed with him, wiping at her eyes quickly and resuming her perusal of their family. There were smiles all around, but the weight of the day still held heavy of all of them.

"Not to mention," Fred added, "There's a little Freddie in there, one that needs his Auntie Mione. Who else is going to make sure he has his first book of charms or his first makroscope?"

"Microscope," Hermione automatically corrected him.

Fred grinned at that, "See? That little guy in there needs you to be the auntie that cultivates his cleverness while the rest enable his knack for mischief."

Hermione nodded, agreeing with everything that he was saying. He smiled as he turned to her. A little push. It was all she needed. A reminder of who she was, not just to herself, but to all of them. What she brought to their lives and how she helped them all and in turn, how they all helped her too.

She let out a shaky exhale and attempted a smile before glancing over to him, "Will you stay with me? Will you come too?"

He turned back to the windows and closed his eyes for a lingering moment. His mind racing. All he wanted was to stay with her. Always. The guilt at his selfishness was close to crippling him. He rationalized that she was asking, this was her request. He should walk away, here and now, granting her the space to move on, but he had no resolve. He knew he should say no.

He opened his eyes and caught her reflection staring over at him. He couldn't turn her down, not while she was watching him with that expression. The demeanour of a wounded and scared animal. Wanting to be accepted but worried of rejection. All she was looking for was comfort. His presence gave her that. Resigning himself to his decision, he knew he was damning himself. He would indulge her this but when the time was right, he'd take his leave.

He gave her his best smile, encouraging her and nodded, "Of course."

Hermione straightened up, murmuring a quiet thank you to him and together they passed over the threshold of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. His second home.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

The evening wore on while Fred stayed close by Hermione's side. He felt a deep sorrow fill his chest when she came out of her shell, moving toward the life surrounding her and away from the cold of death he brought. He wasn't mad. He never could be. This is what he wanted for her.

He listened in on the conversations, laughed as they joked. A certified third wheel in every interaction. The more Hermione drifted, the more he came to terms with their fragile situation. Inch by inch, he backed away. Soon the conversations were out of reach, no longer keeping him engaged. With a sombre smile, he stood in the back and knew. This was it. His acceptance.

He sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets and gave a nod. He slipped past everyone, ignoring the chill he felt as he passed through person after person. He reached the front door and paused. He wanted to look back but knew it was only going to break his heart even more. He needed to move on. He was stuck there trying to find a way back to them. _What if, all this time, he really was dead?_ Gone. Pretending that he could make it back to his family.

Taking a deep breath in, he flickered through the door. Refusing to look back, he stared forward at the darkened street. With a sniff, he straightened his back, holding his head high and squaring his shoulders. It was his turn. Confident that he was making the right decision, he took his leave, walking down the dim path.

"Fred?" Her voice quiet but catching his attention.

He paused in his pursuit, a small smile formed on his mouth, a swell of compassion for her coming up. He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. He didn't want her to see him break down. Not when she'd done so much healing herself. He half-turned, flashing her a ghost of his signature smile. She took stock of his demeanour, his resignation, and he watched as her body relaxed. She was accepting his resolution.

"This is goodbye," She chewed on her lower lip, "Isn't it?"

He gave a slight nod, rolling his lips together, "Yeah. It is."

He watched as she looked down, her shoulders rising and falling with the deep breaths she took. He inched around, facing her, less than a metre separating them. She glanced back up, a sad smile and newly spilled tears on her face. She sniffed, closing her eyes to keep her composure before reopening them, giving him a genuine smile. Even through the tears, she was beautiful. She always would be. Always was. To him.

"Thank you." She said.

He reached forward, wishing to wipe away her tears but knowing he couldn't. Instead, he framed her face with one hand, pretending that it was pressed against her. If he imagined, he could feel the warmth of her skin on the palm of his hand. The soft caress of her cheek within his grasp. She closed her eyes, tilting her head to lean where his hand should have touched her skin. He swallowed, choking on an inhale to quell the sob in his throat.

"I'll never forget you." She whispered into the night, "Your legacy will live on. George and I will make sure it happens."

He tilted his head in affection, a smile on his mouth, "I know."

He didn't need to say anymore. Between her and George, the world was never going to forget him. He'd be made out into a martyr. He chuckled at the thought. George with the theatrics, and Hermione with the facts to support. They'd make sure the good he provided the world would be remembered. He pulled his hand back, tucking both into his pockets. Her eyes tracked his retreating hand with sorrow. An embrace they never got to experience. Not in life, nor in death.

"I love you, Fred." She admitted, "Always have."

He nodded, "I love you too, Hermione. Too bad it took us this long to figure it out, huh?"

They both let out reluctant laughs. Not wishing to dwell on the moment. A moment that he wished could've happened years ago. There was nothing to be done now. They were separated between the veil. One living, one dead. He couldn't go on haunting her, or the rest of them. He needed to let go. Let go of all his grandeur notions of resurrection.

He inclined his head towards the shop, "Go on, live your life. Do all the amazing things you're destined for."

Their bubble broke around them, as the door to the shop opened behind her, Harry calling out. Fred saw the concern written on the other man's face and knew she would be cared for. She didn't need him anymore.

"I just needed a moment," She answered her best friend, over her shoulder while keeping her eyes locked on Fred's face.

Fred nodded, inviting her to leave. He backed away, keeping forward to watch her as he took those final steps from her. Forever. He wouldn't come back here. He'd find a way to accept his fate alone. He didn't want to be a constant reminder of what she lost. What she couldn't have. Lifting one hand, he waved, before breaking the spell and turning around. He let himself fade into the dark of the street.

He felt the fog as he walked on – the pull of gravity. He knew what was coming. Maybe this was it. _The end._ Without any fight left in him, he let the growing pit of black swallow him whole. He cascaded into the hole, letting his weightlessness take over. He noted that there seemed to be a pinprick of light down at the bottom. _He wondered if that's what he'd been missing this whole time?_

A myriad of thoughts raced through his immediate consciousness. _Was that what he left behind? His love for her. Making him a bonafide ghost?_ _Was he only propelled into this half existence because she left and somewhere, somehow, his soul knew she needed the help in coming to terms with her losses? And in turn, helping himself move on from the living?_ He took comfort in that thought. He closed his eyes as he plummeted down, the small light starting to grow brighter.

He replayed every moment he spent with her this last week. Every smile, every frown. Every laugh, every cry. Everything.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

Hermione watched as his existence flickered in a way she'd never seen before. He slipped away from her, darkness covering any possible path back. He was swallowed up into a void of complete black. Gone from her forever.

She swallowed, a lump growing in her throat. She didn't feel ready. It didn't matter that this was the end. _How did he expect her to walk back into the shop after this? How was she supposed to live on without him?_ None of his quips to keep her on her toes. _How was it that even now, at their goodbye, he still had so much faith in her and her decisions? _Even after learning everything she'd done – all the running. All her doubts rose to the surface, her held back tears cascading down her cheeks.

She flattened her hands against her stomach, taking in gasping breaths. She pressed hard against her abdomen. Wishing the tight feeling would recede. Her eyes blurred and she stared down at the cobblestone street at her feet. She licked her lips, breathing hitched and smoothed a nervous hand over her hair. The end. This was their end. She looked up one last time and he was gone. Nothing but the enchanted streetlamps flickering in the distance.

She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder. She whirled around, a wild look in her eyes and a sob escaping. It was Harry. His worry for her etched on his features. She could see the sorrow hiding behind his eyes as well. Even though he had no idea where this current breakdown had derived from, he was still suffering too.

She sniffed and he wrapped her up in a tight hug. She unfolded her hands from her stomach and squeezed him back. Her best friend. The only thing keeping her grounded at this moment. They stayed there for a long time. She lost track of how long. It wasn't until they heard the door to the shop open and several shouts from inside filter into the silence around them, that they knew their absence had been noticed.

Together they looked up and saw Ginny and Ron standing in the street, soft smiles directed towards them. Before long, Ron was crossing the distance in large steps, joining in on the hug and then Ginny wiggled her way in too. Hermione let out a startled but happy laugh as the four of them held on to each other. She nodded, resting her head on Ron's shoulder. They would always be her family.

She could do this.

For Fred.


	9. Midnight

**A/N: A few weeks late but here we are! Probably only another 2 - 3 chapters left. Depends on how my editing goes. Buckle up my loves, this is going to be a fun ride. As always, let me know what you think! **

* * *

_"I'm so alone  
Nothing feels like home  
I'm so alone  
Trying to find my way back home to you"  
__Alone - Marshmello_

_Hermione. _

The thought – no name – struck recognition within him. A harsh light shone down on him, bleeding through his eyelids. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the pounding in his head to go away. His first instinct was to sit up, but he felt tied down. His limbs too heavy to lift. _What was happening to him?_ The question set off alarm bells within his flight or fight response. The rush of his own blood echoing in his ears while panic flooded his being. Somewhere deep within his unconsciousness, he was aware of a danger to him, and he forced down the groan building.

Grasping for a way to soothe his anxiety, he furrowed his brow together and concentrated on the noises around him, searching for something to offer an aid. A quiet hum sounded in the background, indicating multiple machines working in tandem. What devices, he couldn't say. Or at least he figured the sounds were that of working mechanisms buzzing lightly in the backdrop. However, an aggravated tone blared at equal intervals, disturbing the silence that lay over the room. Using the momentum of the tone, he inhaled, hoping to gather some semblance of calm.

With great effort, he inched one eye open and then the other. It took a few moments before they adjusted to the sharpness of the white room, causing a throbbing pain. He grit his teeth together and forced himself to scan his surroundings.

The room was long and filled with row upon row of medical beds, each occupied by a person. All hooked up to an array of tubes and machines. He turned his to the other side and found an equally long line of rows of beds, people and machines.

He was in a hospital, that much he was sure of. However, where and why were the answers he didn't have. He stared back up at the bare ceiling above him. He felt depleted as if he was barely even there. Barely even alive. He closed his eyes momentarily, concentrating on wiggling his fingers. He let out a held breath of air when they moved. His terror at being rendered immobile, appeased for the time being.

He took his time, picking and choosing different appendages to flex, gaining back some mobility. As he was circling his ankles and wrists in opposite movements, he wondered how he'd gotten here. He wracked his brain for his last living memories, and all he could remember was laughing and then pitch black. At least he thinks he laughed. Perhaps he was misremembering. Percy was never good at making jokes. They were never his strong suit. Confusion leaked through his thoughts when suddenly, his eyes sprang open.

The war.

He shot up, and everything rushed back. Pain shot through him, nearly causing him to collapse onto the cot. He grabbed his head, cradling it within his hands. He died. He was crushed by a wall. He was dead. He whipped his hands out in front of him, registering a wide range of assorted scars. Ones that hadn't existed before the accident. Ones that could only exist after being crushed by a wall of stone.

His mind kept whirling through memories when her face finally came to the forefront. Her haunted eyes. Her disbelief. Her sorrow. A new sense of urgency grew in him. He swiped at all the tubes attached to him, causing a machine close by to short and set the alarm off. He growled at the stabbing ache just beneath his skull. He scrunched his face up and used his irritation at this predicament as leverage.

He flicked his blankets off his legs and was shocked to see more scars running down them. Shaking his head, he toppled off the bed and rose shakily. With his hands gripping the metal frame, he regained his balance and scanned the room. A few of the other patients roused in their beds, but no one was on a level consciousness that matched his own.

"Hermione!" He shouted, only to himself, but the name rang in the echoes throughout the room.

He heard a crash at the far end of the corridor and realized that he needed to escape. He couldn't place why he felt this need only that he knew it was imperative. Somewhere deep down, he knew, if he didn't, he'd be lost again. Lost to the dark. Lost to the world. Lost to his family. Lost to her. He wasn't going to let it happen. Not today.

He scrambled in the opposite direction. His legs barely of any use, as he stumbled from bed to bed, using the footboards to keep him standing. He continued forward, eyes roving over every machine and person he passed. There had to be something he could use. Something to help him create a diversion. He started pulling machines forward and tossing them into the main pathway behind him. Maybe waking up a few other patients might do the trick—at least a build-up of machinery to slow their progression towards him.

A tingling in his legs slowed him down, but he recognized that feeling. Blood flow was coming back. He was getting stronger. Unfortunately, he was still too unsteady on his legs. He lost his footing, tripping over his own feet and tumbled forward. He slammed into the door in front of him, letting out an agonized groan. He rolled off his arm, reaching up and holding it where it knocked into the door. He grimaced at the bruise he knew was going to form there.

Letting out a deep huff, he pressed his nose against the glass of the door, taking a moment to work out a game plan. He prayed to all the gods that the door he was leaning against was open. At least he could hide in the segregated room, give himself time to think properly. He reached for the doorknob, gripped and turned. The latch gave, and he let out a sigh of relief. It was unlocked.

He tripped through the door, using his entire body to close it behind him and press down on the lock, buying himself one extra moment. If those were wizards chasing him down then he needed to think fast, before they charmed the door open. He staggered forward, standing in the middle of the little room and scanned his surroundings. His nostrils flared as he registered what he was staring at.

The entire back wall was lined with wands. All encased. He smirked. Sheer dumb luck. That's what he had on his side. His eyes roved over each row, trying to locate his trusty wand. Halfway between the middle and left side, he found it sitting perfectly still in its transparent case. He limped over to the box, still grasping at his sore arm. He pounded his fist against the case, hoping that his luck hadn't run out. It didn't budge. He swore and struck a few more times, only to have nothing happen.

He backed away, searching for anything in the room he could use as support when he remembered who he was. He was a wizard. Taking in a deep breath, he held his free hand out.

"Accio wand." His words came out stilted and in a hoarse whisper.

He coughed, having irritated his vocal cords, but thankfully, Lady Luck still fancied him. He watched his wand flutter around its cage. He stood up taller, pulled all his energy into this moment, hoping it wasn't all for naught.

With his hand outstretched, he called out in a guttural grunt, "Accio wand!"

He felt the force of his magic come surging forward, and he doubled over. The mixture of his magic and his wand banging against the glass caused it to shatter. His wand came flying back towards him and landed comfortably in the palm of his hand. His magical core recognizing the object and immediately accepting it. The magic reuniting within him pushed him off-kilter, and he leaned heavily against the wall of wands. He reached up to flip his hair out of his eyes. With blurred vision, he noted as the group healers shouted while they continued running towards him.

With a shadow of his signature smirk, he raised his wand. Drumming up every last ounce of energy he possessed, he squeezed his fist around the wood and pictured her. With his wand clutched at the ready, he spun on his foot, watching the expression horror on the healers that were rushing towards him but ultimately missing their mark as he disappeared with a crack.

* * *

**~(HP)~**

* * *

She missed this, the nostalgic feeling of comfort, all from being in their presence. It reminded her of the late nights by the fire, where they all spent together milling around the Gryffindor commons. At some point during the course of the evening, the droves of people celebrating had filtered out, making their way back home. Leaving only the original Hogwarts alumni congregating with one another attempting to extend their night as far as humanly possible. None of them keen to let these memories go.

She posted herself atop the step, in front of the door that lead down onto the main floor of the shop. She had her knees pulled up and rested her elbows on them. She held her chin in the palm of her hand, smiling as she watched her friends. She enjoyed listening as they recounted some of their fondest memories. The wild ones, where there was no rhyme or reason, only the caveat that they were children, living their lives without consequence.

Hermione found herself enraptured by the whole of it. These were the instants she'd forgotten existed. What they were like before the war. Who they were before they were forced to grow up so quickly. However, this moment in time had her believing they hadn't lost themselves. Not one bit. They were all still the unnecessarily brave, courageous and oftentimes, reckless Gryffindors. Even more so, they were still full of life, ready to take on the next day or challenge. Always at each other's sides, no matter what.

She watched their interaction with fondness, dwelling on the simpler times when Lee was their boisterous Quidditch announcer and the axel that kept Fred and George progressing forward. Fred and George the wheels driving them in the direction of mischief and, ultimately, success. The 'golden trio' of the years ahead of them. Before her, Ron and Harry had crossed paths and became their own band of misfits. She smiled at that, how they'd all managed to create these bonds that kept them bound to each other, as well as bringing in others into their folds.

Similar to what muggles cultivated while attending university. She chuckled to herself at the thought. They were her fraternity. She tucked that revelation away, reminding herself to explain it to Lee and George later. She knew beyond any doubt that they'd love the idea. The inevitable introduction to hazing had her both annoyed and thrilled by the prospect. She could imagine the utter terror they would rain down.

Focusing back on the group, directly across from her was George, where he'd hopped up onto the counter and had an arm draped around one of the bright copper cash registers. Lee was standing a few inches to his left, his eyes hooded while he smiled at something George had said. Lee's dreads swayed with his quiet laughter while George lazily waved a hand around, enhancing his story.

A hand popped up out of nowhere, and she followed the arm to find Ron lying flat out along the floor at the base of the counter. George's legs were swinging haphazardly a few inches above Ron's torso. He'd entered the conversation by wildly accusing George of overexaggerating while launching into his perceived version of the tale. George pretended to be offended while Lee hugged his sides in stitches at the retelling. Exasperated, George looked to Harry, pleading for backup. Hermione's eyes followed the new direction. Noting that Harry was leaned against the wall of Snackboxes, choosing to close his eyes and shake his head, refusing to get involved.

Ginny giggled from where her head was settled comfortably in Harry's lap. His legs were stretched out to allow her room while she curled her body up against his. She came to George's defence, embellishing whatever statement he'd made and dismissing what Ron explained. The twins had always been among her favourite brothers. Plus, the entire Weasley clan enjoyed ribbing Ron when they could. Ron shot up and argued with his little sister while Harry smirked, all still with his eyes closed. His unruly hair falling down across his forehead. Ginny reached up without any preamble and pushed it off his face while rolling her eyes at Ron's blustering.

The clock on the mantle, hanging above them, chimed midnight and startled them all. The story paused while they all took stock of the time. Hermione glanced up and let out a sigh of relief. She'd done it. She'd made it through the entire day. She'd had help, of course, but she did it. She looked back over as George hopped down, missing Ron by a thread and waved his wand. Ron picked up on another round of swearing as Lee held out a hand to pull up the ginger.

Ignoring his brother's protests entirely, George made an announcement, while simultaneously transfiguring several stray pieces of confetti into champagne flutes, "To another year of freedom!"

He charmed the glasses to fill up to the brim with the bubbly beverage and then sent them on their way. Hermione stood as she caught hers in the air and watched as Harry discreetly charmed Ginny's into sparkling water before handing it over to her. The couple shared a loving exchange, and Hermione felt her cheeks heat at the intimacy she happened to witness.

Turning forward, she raised her glass up with George's, tipping it in his direction. He gave her a wink and clinked his glass with Lee's. Hermione moved to bring her glass to her mouth but was interrupted by the sound of something banging into the door behind her.

She furrowed her brows as Lee hollered out, "We're closed, mate, come back in the morning."

Hermione shifted around, gazing over her shoulder and froze. Her entire world tunnelled, nothing existing around her except for that door and the person standing just beyond. Her fingers gripped the stem of her glass, hoping to keep herself tethered to the now. She felt herself spiralling—a numbing sensation building from the point between her shoulder blades.

She blinked.

She knew that hair.

The handle of the door jiggled, and she heard George answer this time, his tone irate. Hermione opened her mouth, attempting to respond but was unable. She was utterly immobilized by the downward spiral her mind was plummeting into. She knew it was too good to be true. She knew there would be consequences to her day. She shouldn't have pushed so hard. She shouldn't have come back. One year wasn't enough. She needed more healing.

A dozen rationalizations ran through her mind's eye, but none of them made any sense. He couldn't be here. He died. He was dead. Gone forever. In the same vein, her heart leapt at the chance to have her personal phantom back, even as that _phantom_ opened the door. It didn't matter that she heard both Lee and George address the newcomer. Her brain was still grasping for purchase, something – _anything_ – to keep her from diving back into insanity. The obvious answer wasn't something she was ready to accept. It was too good to be true.

She watched as he spilled through the door, dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. He was pale and sickly. A sheen of sweat coating his skin and bleeding through onto the shift. There were needles taped to various points on his arms, with the connected tubes hanging haphazardly. It appeared that he'd been under some type of care. Unbeknownst to her, the shop fell into silence. She was too caught by the sight of him to comprehend that everyone else had seen him too.

Surely, she was imagining this. He told her no one else could see him. It was quite possible she fell asleep, sprawled out on the WWW shop floor. Or that her mind was choosing to play more tricks on her. Unready to let her move on. Her mind reeled as she recounted the last several days. Everything her imagination drummed up rang true. The scars, the hair, everything except his attire. _Was it coming up with this drastically unhinged version of Fred to punish her for saying goodbye? Was she doomed to be haunted by who she couldn't save? _

"Hermione," Fred whispered as he held on tightly to the door handle.

She startled, hearing his voice. It was the same but different. It had a roughness that wasn't there a few hours before. She stared at him, his eyes finding hers from under his long hair. Every last line and scar set in the places where her imagination had them except this time, she wasn't imagining him. That was no hallucination. That was a real live, breathing man. A man who had been dead for a year to the day. Her mind stuttered back to life and violently.

"You did it," Fred declared, "Hermione, you brought me back."

Shockwaves pulsed through the air around them, gripping them tight while they held their breath. Losing grip on the drink in her hand, it dropped without ceremony and barrelled to the ground. With the sound of the shattering glass, chaos erupted. Fred collapsed, appearing to have lost all energy in that last statement. Rapid footsteps echoed as she raced forward. She registered that she wasn't the only one running.

"Fred?" She heard George call out, his voice closer by the second, "Freddie?!"

Hermione was there first. Catching Fred but buckling underneath his weight. Her arms hooked under his, and she landed on her knees. She kept her arms wrapped around him tight, saving him from the fall. She grunted as she struggled to keep him up. He was dead weight against her. She paled at that thought but was saved from dwelling when George skid to a stop, stooping down, whipping one of Fred's arms across his shoulders, and hoisted his twin up.

As if on cue, they both reached out to check his pulse, Hermione reaching for Fred's wrist, and George placing two fingers in the junction of his throat and chin. A few beats passed, while they felt the thump of his heart and both relaxed. Standing up, Hermione repositioned Fred, slinging his other arm around her to mimic George. They gazed over Fred's bent head, their eyes locking with each other. A silent understanding passing between them. George had heard what Fred said and wanted answers. Hermione didn't have any – not really – but she'd fill George in on what she could.

Ginny came up in front, snapping them back to the present and guiding them forward through the shop. Lee and Ron came up the rear, scanning the empty street, then locking the doors and casting several wards around the entire building. They blacked out the shop windows, ensuring no one could see inside and shut off all the lights. The group of them stayed close together, ushering Fred Weasley back home.


End file.
